
PRICE TWENTY-FtVE CENTS 



THE TEXAN 



HARRY VAN DEMARK 







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PHILADELPHIA 






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1 THE TEXAN 



A Western Melodrama in Four Acts 



BY 



HARRY VAN DEMARK 

Author of W HER FRIEND THE ENEMY." "THE 
RANCHMAN," etc. 




PHILADELPHIA 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1911 









Copyright 191 i by The Psnn Publishing Company 



The Texan s~\ „ 

©C!.D 23181 



The Texan 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Buck Doyle . Known on the border as " Buck Sapello " 

Wesley Doyle His brother 

Dan In man .... il Ranching it" as a?i experiment 
Major Allen Truesdell, U. S. A. . Commanding a regi- 
ment from Fort Hancock 
Captain George Henderson, U. S. A. 
Lieutenant Thomas Purdy, U. S. A. 
Trooper Murphy. 

Carl King Dan's nephew 

Swiftwing . ... An Apache boy, devoted to Back 
Elsie Inman Dan's sister, a girl with a will of her own 

Millie Inman Dan's wife 

Ethel Truesdell The major's daughter 

Aunty Lou A Texas il touch of color" 

Soldiers — U. S. cavalry troopers. 

Time of Playing : — Two hours and a half. 



SYNOPSIS 



Act I. — Dan Inman's ranch in the Sierra Diablo Moun- 
tains, Western Texas, afternoon. (The meeting.) 

Act II. — Cabin in the valley, used as a guard-house for the 
army, the next afternoon. (Horse- thief or hero — 
which ?) 

Act III. — A ravine on Blue Moon Mountain, the same 
night. (The death trap.) 

Act IV. — Major Truesdell's headquarters in the valley, 
three days later. (The coming of Sapello.) 

The entire action of the play occurs in Western Texas. 
The time is the winter of 1878-79. 

3 



COSTUMES AND CHARACTERISTICS 

Buck Doyle. A man under thirty, heavily built, tanned 
face and arms. Wears corduroy suit, boots and spurs, 
wide-brimmed army hat, belt with pistol and cartridges. 
Wesley Doyle. About thirty, dressed in border fashion. 
At his first entrance, Act I, and also in Act III he wears 
riding gauntlets, and his appearance indicates he has 
ridden a long way. 
Dan Inman. Not over thirty. Border costume, flannel 
shirt, trousers tucked into high boots, wears belt with 
revolver. 
Major Truesdell. A rather pompous man of middle age 
with gray moustache. Uniform of major in U. S. 
Cavalry. (Khaki will do for all uniforms, although 
blue is correct for the period in which this play is laid, 
1878.) 
Captain Henderson. About thirty-five. Uniform of 
captain in U. S. Cavalry service. 

Lieutenant Purdy. About thirty. Uniform of a lieu- 
tenant of cavalry. 

Trooper Murphy. Forty or over. Uniform of a cavalry 
trooper, armed with a carbine and sword. 

Carl King. Sixteen or seventeen, dressed in exaggerated 
border fashion. 

Swiftwing. An Indian boy, not over eighteen. Wears a 
leather suit, or "chaps" and flannel shirt, moccasins 
on feet, and a battered army hat. 

Elsie Inman. About twenty-five. In Act I simple house 
dress suitable for winter on a Western ranch; skirt 
rather short. Act II, riding costume, short skirt, 
leggins, etc. Belt with revolver, cartridges and a 
knife, and long cloak over all. Act IV, same as Act I, 
with hat and coat. 

Millie Inman. About twenty-five. Simple winter house 
dress in Act I. Same, with hat and coat, in Act IV. 

Ethel Truesdell. About eighteen. Very vivacious. 
Wears riding costume in Act I, with short skirt, wide 
hat, leggins, etc. In Act IV simple indoor costume. 

Aunty Lou. Stout colored woman, about fifty. Dark 
dress and bright colored turban. 

Soldiers. In uniform of U. S. cavalrymen. 



PROPERTIES 

Act I. — Knife and gun for Carl. Dishes, coffee-pot, 
handkerchief for Millie. Tobacco and pipe for Dan. 
Cigar and pipe for Wesley. Sugar in bowl, cream in 
pitcher for Elsie. Two letters for Swiftwing. 

Act II. — Rifle, rope, tobacco for Murphy. Revolver 
for Captain Henderson. Cigarette for Buck. Let- 
ter, knife, belt with revolvers and cartridges for Elsie. 

Act III. — Paper, cigarette for Buck. Indian trinkets 
and ornaments for Soldiers. 

Act IV. — Book for Ethel. Cigar for Captain. Papers 
for Major. 



SCENE PLOTS 

Act I 



MNT£R LANDSCAPE OftQP 

WHQOW | ^ 

fffiCPLAQE / ~ DOC 





Scene. — Dining-room at Inman's ranch. Doors r. l. and 
in flat l. c. Window l. c. Fireplace C. Table and 
chairs R. Couch down l. Other plain furnishings as 
desired. Fireplace may be omitted if necessary, with 
slight changes in lines and business. 

5 



SCENE PLOTS 



Act II 



/. 



exrefi/of? backing 



\ 




Scene. — Interior of log cabin, or rough shack. Door upc. 
Table c. Cot and stool down r. Bench down l. 
No other furnishings necessary. 

Act III 



0/tOP MOWING MOUNTAINSIDE 



StOQK 



CONCEALING MOUTH 
OF CAVE 



WINQ8 



O 



if£7 A0CK8 



AOCK 



o 



WIMW 




Scene. — A ravine on Blue Mountain. Drop showing moun- 
tainside, entrance to cave c, its mouth concealed by 
vines, etc. Rock wings and set rocks as shown. Snow 
on ground, on rocks, etc. 



SCENE PLOTS 
Act IV 



LANDSCAPE DROP 



[ 



CUPBOARD 



V 



OQOR 



D 



O 

CHAIR 



Q 





TABL£ & CHAIRS 



Scene. — Major Truesdell's headquarters. Rough cabin 
interior. Rude fireplace l. (May be omitted if de- 
sired.) Window or windows r. Door up l. c. Cup- 
board up r. Table and chairs down r. Stool and 
chair near fireplace. Other furnishings as desired. 



The Texan 



ACT I 

SCENE. — Dining-room at Inmari s ranch. Rather rough 
interior, with rude pictures and prints on the walls, 
most of which have apparently been cut from the illus- 
trated papers of the period. About r. c, well down 
stage, is a large table and three chairs. There are 
dishes on table, which is covered with a bright red table 
spread. Down R. is a couch. Centre back is a large 
fireplace and mantel, before which are two rockers. A 
pot of coffee is boiling on the fire. Old-fashioned cup- 
board up l. On mantel are clock, photographs and 
other bric-a-brac. A saddle, bridle and several pieces 
of harness are hanging on wall at back. A rifle stands 
in upper r. corner. There are doors L. and R. , and 
h. c. at back. There is a window R. c, at back, 
through which can be seen the snow-covered hills. 
Wind and snow effects are used throughout tlu entire 
act, the time being early winter. 

(Aunty Lou is discovered bustling about between cupboard 
and table. Carl King enters at rise, shivering and 
brushing the snow from his coat. Crossing to fire, he 
warms his hands. Aunty, stopping l. c, arms 
akimbo, surveys him thoughtfully.) 

Aunty (chuckling). Yo' acts as if yo' might be kinder 
cool. I reckon dese yere snow-sto'ms doesn't agree 
wif yo'. 

Carl (teeth chattering). F-f-froze is n-n-no name for what 
I am, Aunty. The r-r-ranch f-f-feels like a chunk out 
of the N-N-North Pole to-day. Boo-o-o ! 

(Rubbing hands vigorously, he sticks them over the fire.) 

9 



THE TEXAN 

Aunty. Oh, I ain't a-blamin' yo' fo' huggin' de fiah — 
Ah'd do hit mahself if dar wuzn't so much work tuh 
do. But, Lor' bress yo', chile, dar's so many nngs 
tuh demand mah attention, dat w'en I goes tuh walk, 
mah feet gits in such er hurry, dey likes tuh run away 
wif me, en I falls all ober mahself. He, he, he ! 

(Laughing boisterously, she crosses to the table.') 

Carl. That's what comes of having chair cushions for 
feet. 

Aunty (turning quickly). Huh, boy? Wat's dat? 

Carl. I said that's what comes of being so neat. 

Aunty. He ! He ! Dat's right, a pusson's got tuh be 
neat — 'specially w'en dey's got er repytation tuh ab- 
stain 

Carl (interrupting her). You mean sustain, Aunty. 

Aunty. Does I? Reckon I knows w'at I means, so go 
'long, boy, en don't interrupt your aunty no mo'. If I 
don't abstain mah repytation, I's gwine tuh lose mah 
job. (A slight pause.) Say, w'at wuz all dat racket 
down de valley afore yo' come in ? 

Carl. Why, that was the soldiers, Aunty. 

Aunty. So'gers ! Lor' sakes ! Am dey done gwine tuh 
murder us all ? 

Carl. Of course not. The Indians have grown trouble- 
some, and the soldiers have come up into the hills to 
stop an uprising. They're making their camp down in 
the valley now. 

Aunty. An' will dere be a scrap ? 

Carl. I s'pose so, Aunty— lots of 'em. 

Aunty. Golly ! I's gittin' scairt. 

Carl (boastfully). Humph ! What you scared about ? 
They don't scare me none whatever. Why, I'm going 
to ask Uncle Dan if I can't take my rifle and go along 
with the soldiers when they go after the Indians. I 
can shoot Comanches as well as anybody. 

Aunty. Yo' jest took mah advice en stay tuh hum. Lil' 
boys ain't got no bizness fightin' Injuns — en dat's de 
whole trufe, en nuffin' but de trufe ! 

(She shakes her head significantly.) 

Carl (with a contemptuous s?iiff). Who you calling a lit- 
tle boy, I'd like to know ? If you mean me, I'll have 
10 



THE TEXAN 

you understand that you're away off. Ain't I sixteen, 
and if I'm sixteen, ain't I a man ? Pshaw ! You give 
me an ache in the toe ! 

Aunty {soothingly). Dar, dar, chile. Don't git on yo' 
high hoss 'bout hit. I were only jokin'. But what fo' 
yo' wanter fight Injuns? Ain't yo' got er home heah 
wif Marse Dan as long as yo' wants hit ? 

Carl. Oh, I reckon that's true enough, even if I do have 
to work like sixty. But that isn't the point, Aunty. 
I'm simply spoiling for a fight. It's in my blood. 
Why, sometimes I feel like I could turn cannibal, I'm 
so bloodthirsty. (Assumes a ferocious expression.) 
How would you like to have me eat you ? 

Aunty. Look heah, boy — stop dat nonsense ! Eat me, 
does yuh say? May de good Lord forbid any sich sac- 
rifice. Yo' couldn't git me down, nohow, fer how am 
er lady ob man size gwine tuh go down yo' lily-like 
froat ? 

Carl {with mock ferociousness). Why, Aunty, I'd chew 
you into little teeny, tiny bits. It wouldn't be any 
trouble at all when I got started. And I reckon I 
might as well begin right now. 

{He seizes a large hunting-knife fro?n mantel, and brandish- 
ing it, starts stealthily toward her. She slowly backs 
away from him, as if in doubt as to his purpose.) 

Aunty. Wat yo' gwine tuh do, boy? {He growls.) 
Oh, Lordy, I reckon he means it suah ernuff. He's 
crazy. See de look in dem eyes ! Oh, de good Lord 
help er pooh niggah lady ! 

{She runs arowid table screaming, he after her.) 

Carl. Eeeny, meeny, miny mo, catch a nigger by the toe. 
If she hollers let her go, eeny, meeny, miny mo ! 
Whoop ! 

{He lets off an ear-splitting yell, and Aunty falls on her 
knees c, hands upraised as if in prayer.) 

Aunty. Oh, I axes yo' tuh hab mercy on er pooh, weary 

cullud woman. I — I — I 

Carl {interrupting her, striking pose, arm raised). 

Arise, heathen, thou art spared, spired, speared ! 
ii 



THE TEXAN 

(As he says " speared '," he jabs her in the ribs with the 
handle of the knife. She yells.) 

{Enter suddenly, l., Dan, Elsie and Millie Inman.) 

Dan. What's all this racket about? {Sees Carl and 
Aunty.) Well, may I be hanged ! 

(Elsie breaks out into peal after peal of laughter ; Dan 
and Millie finally join her. Carl and Aunty re- 
cover themselves, and Aunty rises. Both look 
sheepish.) 

Elsie. Millie, it looks like we'd struck a cannibal island 

up here in the hills. {Still laughs.) 
Millie. What were you doing, Aunty? 

(Aunty doesn't know what to say. Carl speaks aside to 
her, nudging her with his arm.) 

Carl. Tell 'em you were praying for a snow-storm. 
Aunty. I were prayin' fo' a snow-stawm, missus. 
Dan {laughing). Well, you're not easily satisfied. There's 
six inches on the level now, and more in prospect. 

(Carl and Aunty look at each other sheepishly.) 
{Enter Swiftwing, door l. C.) 

Millie. Here's Swiftwing. 

Dan {turning). Hello, Swiftwing ! Want to see me? 

Swiftwing {gravely). Yep. Man at gate say he want to 
see boss man of ranch. I come tell you. 

Dan. A man at the gate, eh ? A stranger ? 

Swiftwing. Huh ! I never set peepers on him before. 

Dan {laughing). Never set your " peepers" on him, eh? 
Well, if you don't stop using Carl's slang, you'll get a 
twist in your tongue some of these fine mornings. Tell 
the stranger to come in by the fire and we'll give him a 
sample of our Western hospitality. 

Swiftwing. All right. I go. 

{He salutes, turns stiffly, military fashion, hands at sides 
and exits, door l. c.) 

Millie. I wonder who the stranger is ? 
Elsie. Have patience a moment and you'll find out. An 
Indian, perhaps. 

12 



THE TEXAN 

Dan. No; had it been an Indian, Swiftwing would have 
said so. 

(Aunty has resumed her work of arranging dishes, going 
back and forth from table to cupboard. Carl has 
taken the rifle out of corner, upper r., and is polishing 
it before the fire.) 

Millie. Perhaps it is the old scout, McDougall — Elsie's 
friend. Or (Jo Elsie) your squaw man, Sapello. 

{This is said rather sneer ingly, but with a smile.) 

Elsie (offended). Now, that was unkind of you, Millie. 

Sapello has left his old life. He was in New Mexico 

the last news I had. 
Millie. I don't care where he is; the fact that he lived in 

degradation for the matter of five years or more makes 

him almost irreclaimable. Accept my advice and drive 

him out of your head altogether. 
Dan. Millie is right, Elsie. Forget him. 
Elsie (with spirit). What ! forget that he saved my life 

when we were in New Mexico last spring ? That would 

be gratitude, indeed. 
Millie. Well, the first thing you know people will be talk- 
ing — saying that you are going with a white man who 

has — well, who has lived with a squaw. 
Elsie. Let them talk. I do my duty as I see it, and it's 

no one's affair. 

{Enter Wesley Doyle, door l. c.) 

Wesley (bowing). Good-morning. I hope I am not in- 
truding. (The ladies bow.) 

Dan (extending hand). Not at all. We are always glad 
to welcome visitors in these forsaken parts. You're a 
stranger out here, I take it? 

Wesley (taking off gauntlets). Yes. I'm just from Van 
Horn, where the railroad touches. 

Dan (surprised). And you came from there without a 
guide? 

Wesley. I had to ; there was none available. 

Dan. Well, that's pretty good for a stranger, Mr. er 

Wesley (as Dan pauses). Doyle, sir — Wesley Doyle. 

Dan. I beg your pardon, Mr. Doyle, for not introducing 
you to the ladies. I am Dan Inman, and this is my 



THE TEXAJSt 

wife. And this is Miss Inman, my sister. We are 
rather lax in the matter of introductions in Texas. 
It is so seldom we see a newcomer that we are generally 
disposed to trust those who come. But you are cold, 
aren't you ? Millie, let's have some of that coffee. 
Come over to the table, Doyle. 
Wesley. Thank you. 

{He crosses over and sits left, Dan right, of table. Millie 
arranges the dishes while they talk. Elsie speaks 
aside to Carl at fire. .) 

Dan. We drink our coffee about every hour in the winter 

— that is, when we have it. Sometimes we run out 

before we can get our regular supply from Van Horn. 

Then there's pretty lively times around here for a while. 

{Laughs.) Eh, Millie? 
Millie. Well, there's usually a committee of one appointed 

to look into the delay, and the air gets so blue at 

times you can hardly see through it. 
Wesley {with a significant laugh). With — er — smoke, I 

suppose ? 
Millie {in the same spirit). Oh, yes, with — er — smoke! 

{Laughs.) It is caused by — well, I call them cuss 

words. 
Dan. Mr. Doyle, I've been wondering where I've heard 

your name before. {Turns.) Elsie, do we know any 

Doyles ? 
Elsie {coming doiun a). I believe not, Dan — I don't re- 
call any at this moment. 
Wesley. Oh, Doyle is rather a common name — apt to 

encounter it most anywhere, I should think. 
Millie. Not in this part of the country. 

(Millie pours coffee at table, then seats herself in rocker 
down l. Wesley's face assumes an anxious expres- 
sion.) 

Wesley. Are you sure you know of no one by that name 

out here ? 
Millie. Quite sure. 
Dan. Quite sure, Doyle. Will you smoke? 

{Tenders pouch.) 
14 



THE TEXAN 

Wesley (taking it). Thank you, yes. (Pulls pipe from 
pocket.} This will not prove obnoxious to the ladies, 
I trust? (Looks at them inquiringly.} 

Elsie. Not at all. We're used to it. 

Millie. It is part of our daily program. Anyway, I love 
the smell of tobacco. 

Wesley. Now, that sounds homelike. (To Dan.) Do 
you know, Mr. Inman, I should like to propose myself 
for membership in your household for a few weeks, if 
it would not be deemed an impertinence (Inter- 
rupted.') 

Dan (heartily). You are welcome to stay as long as you 
wish. Strangers are a luxury out here. 

Wesley. You Westerners are nothing if not hospitable. 

Dan. Oh, we've a way of making people feel at home, I'll 
admit. Elsie, will you show Mr. Doyle to the front 
room, where he can remove the stains of his journey? 
(Elsie inclines her head.) I'll have Carl or Swiftwing 
attend to your horse at once, sir. (Both rise.) 

Wesley. Thank you. 

Elsie (at door r.). This way, Mr. Doyle. 

Wesley (laughing). Where you lead, Miss Inman, there 
shall I blindly follow. 

(Laughing and talking they exeunt, r.) 

Aunty (looking after them). Dat suah am er nice-lookin' 
gemman. 

(Dan goes to fire, takes pot off the coals and fills his cup 
again.) 

Dan. That's right, Aunty ; he's a clever and entertaining 
fellow. 

Millie. Seems to be a man of culture, too. I wonder 
what he's doing 'way out here? 

Dan. Give it up. (Drinks.) 

Carl (still polishing gun). He's a jim-dandy, all right. 
I like him. 

Millie. Well, if I hear you using any more such expres- 
sions, I'll jim-dandy you ! 

Aunty (surveying Dan). Lawsee, if dat ain't de sebenth 
cup ob coffee Marse Dan done drink tuh-day. I reckon 
some o' dese fine ebenin's he gwine tuh 'vaporate. 

J 5 



THE TEXAN 

Dan (laughing). Now, Aunty, don't make fun of my 
drinking propensities. Coffee doesn't hurt me. Why, 
I thrive on it. (Rises.) Come, Millie, find my over- 
coat. I'm going down the valley to pay Major Trues- 
dell a visit. The troops have come, you know. I 
understand his daughter is with him. 

Millie. Is that so? (Rises.) She must be a nervy one. 
You must bring her here. Your overcoat is in the 
kitchen. Come — I'll help you on with it, and you can 
go out the back way. ( They go up to door* l.) 

Carl. Say, Mr. Inman — I mean Uncle Dan — can't I go 
down there with you ? 

Dan. Why, yes, I suppose so. Put Mr. Doyle's horse in 
the stable, then saddle ours. I'll be out in a moment. 

(Exeunt Dan and Millie, door l. Carl runs to tipper r. 
corner, where he stands gun against wall.) 

Aunty. Yo' suah bettah stay heah, boy. Dem so'gers 

gwine tuh git yuh, if yuh go out. 
Carl. I want them to get me, Aunty. 

(Goes up to door l. c.) 

Aunty. Say, what fo' yo' reckon dat Mr. Doyle done 

come tuh dis kentry ? 
Carl (mysteriously). Why, don't you know what he came 

for ? 
Aunty. I ain't no mind readah. Wha' fo' he come? 
Carl. Sh ! (Hand to lips, he tiptoes toward her.) He 

came out here to die ! 
Aunty (horrified). Tuh die ! Lor' sakes, chile, don't 

tell me dat ! 
Carl. Well, he came out here to eat some of your corn 

bread— it's all the same. 

(Laughing, he runs out L. c, slamming door.) 

Aunty. Now, ain't dat a pestiferous boy ? Huh ! (Snorts.) 
I'll git eben wif him yet fer playin' jokes on me ! Huh ! 

(With another snort she exits, door L.) 

(Enter Elsie, door r.) 

Elsie (standing in thoughtful attitude before fire). Now, 

x6 



THE TEXAN 



why did he persist in my telling over and over that I 
knew no one out here by the name of Doyle ? There's 
something strange about it. I wish I knew just what. 

{Enter Buck Doyle, door l. c.) 

Buck {with a start, as he sees Elsie). Why, Miss Inman, 
I — I beg your pardon ! I saw your brother riding 
toward camp, and asked if I might come in and warm 
myself. I should have knocked. 

Elsie {crossing to him and taking his hands). It doesn't 
matter. How came you here, Buck ? 

Buck. You seem to forget — or perhaps you did not know 
— I am scouting with the army. 

(Elsie withdraws her hands, motioning Buck to a chair. 
He sits in rocker, having pulled it down stage from the 
fire, laying his hat on the floor beside him.') 

Elsie. I had not heard. But you don't know how glad I 

am to see you. 
Buck. Thank you, Miss Inman. That's the pleasantest 

speech I've heard in six months. 
Elsie. I trust you haven't heard many unpleasant ones? 
Buck. Well, a few. 
Elsie. Some one in the army, Buck ? 
Buck. Yes. {Grits his teeth.) It's Captain Henderson. 

But I've given him as good as he sent. 
Elsie. What's the trouble ? 
Buck. I caught him whipping a young boy in the ranks 

one day, and we mixed it up right there. There's 

been no love lost between us since. 
Elsie. I supposed whipping had been abolished in the 

army long since. 
Buck. It has. In fact, it never existed. But this man 

Henderson usually takes the law into his own hands. 
Elsie. Oh, I've forgotten, Buck. You must be tired. 

I'll get you some coffee. 
Buck. Thanks; I am pretty well fagged. Scouting is no 

pleasure in the winter, I assure you. 
Elsie. I should imagine not. {At fire.) What a long 

time it has been since I saw you ! 

{Taking pot from coals she goes to table, R.) 
Buck. Yes. Seems like an age to me. 

17 



THE TEXAN 

(Elsie hands him the coffee, and goes for cream and sugar 
to cupboard up l.) 

Elsie {going to him). Two spoonfuls? Just what you 
used to take? {He nods.) Now, some cream. {Pours 
it.) No, Buck, I haven't seen you since that night 
Carl and I were caught in the storm — that night in 
New Mexico, in the little cabin {Interrupted.) 

Buck (interrupting). Don't mention that ! (He starts up, 
a note of appeal in his voice.) That's a thing of the 
past now ! (Seizes her hand.) You believe me, 
don't you ? 

(A pause. They look into each other's eyes.) 

Elsie (slowly). Yes, I believe you. What — what became 
of the — the Indian woman ? 

Buck (slowly, hanging head). She — is dead ! 

Elsie (hand on his shoulder). It is better so. 

Buck (raising his hand). She was a good wife. I played 
straight with her, too. 

Elsie. I know. But she was not your equal. You have 
the making of a man in you, Buck. I have always be- 
lieved in you and felt that you could make something 
of your life if you tried. Do you realize that for five 
years you have been asleep ? I do not know what the 
cause of this has been, but I have felt that there was 
some sorrow in your past life — forgive me for mention- 
ing it — but am I right ? 

Buck (slowly). You are right. I — I (Pauses.) 

Elsie. Oh, you need not tell me. I am satisfied to know 
you have awakened at last. 

Buck (seizing her hands impetuously). I like to hear you 
talk that way — it brings back to memory those days in 
the hills — on your camping trip — when I first met you 
and before — well, before you knew what a low speci- 
men I was. Do you remember that night when we stood 
at the edge of a massive cliff, gazing off into the starry 
night? Do you remember the ride back to the camp 
under the soft rays of the moon, with the night winds 
rustling and sighing through the trees? (She listens 
with rapt attention. ) Do you remember — Miss Inman 
—Elsie ? 

Elsie. How— how can I forget ? You saved my life that 

18 



THE TEXAN 

very night. My foot slipped, but you caught me in 
time. 

Buck. I am thankful I was there. Somehow, I realized 
that night all I had missed in this world. And when 
the full realization came upon me, I wondered that you 
would even speak to me. 

Elsie (looking at him quickly). And was it because you 
knew I had heard of — of her — that you went away so 
suddenly ? 

Buck. Yes. I could not stay within range of your eyes. 
I was ashamed to look you in the face. 

Elsie. Well, those things are in the past. You have only 
the future to think of. Have you come back to Texas 
for good ? 

Buck. I don't know. It may be for bad. You see, I 
know these Indians so well, having lived among them 
for years, that the government asked me to take the 
trail in this direction, ahead of the troops, and sound 
any tribes that seemed hostile. Anyway, I wanted to 
look over my old ranch on Blue Moon Mountain. If 
the troops were needed, they were to follow me. 

Elsie. Which is as much as saying the troops were needed, 
for they are here. 

Buck. The Comanches are on the war-path, and refuse to 
be pacified. The thing now is to keep the Mescalero 
Apaches from joining them. We are going to strike up 
an alliance with the Apaches if we can. We should 
have little trouble in inducing them to join us, for the 
Comanches are their mortal enemies. 

Elsie. I hope there will be no serious trouble, for this 
place is much more satisfactory as a cattle-ranch than 
a battle-ground. By the way, we have a visitor. 

Buck. A visitor ? 

Elsie. Yes. He came riding up to the gate a while ago. 
Said he was from the East, and wanted to know if he 
could stay a while. Of course, Dan took him in. His 
name is Doyle — Wesley Doyle. 

Buck {with a start). Wesley Doyle ! {Rising f he paces 
back and forth!) A young man? 

Elsie. I didn't ask, but about twenty-eight, I should 
say. 

Buck {half to himself). And he's in this house — in this 
house. 

19 



TME TEXAN 

Elsie. Why, yes. Why do you act so queerly ? Did you 
ever know a man of that name? 

Buck {picking up his hat). Yes, I knew a man named 
Doyle once. If — if there's nothing pressing, I'll go 
now. I've been thirty- six hours in the saddle, and I 
need some sleep. {He goes up to door l. c.) 

Elsie {following). Well, come again, Buck. You'll al- 
ways find me glad to see you. {Extends hand.) 

Buck. I appreciate your kindness, and it's more than I 
deserve. For the present then — good-bye ! 

Elsie. Good-bye ! 

{Exit Buck, door l. c. Elsie goes thoughtfully to fire, 
and stands lost in thought, then walking to table she 
drops into chair, head in her arms.) 

{Enter Millie, door l.) 

Millie. Who were you talking to just now? 

Elsie {raising her head, a defiant note in her voice). Buck 
Sapello. 

Millie. What was he doing here ? 

Elsie. Talking to me. He has been scouting for the army 
and dropped in to see — well, to see Dan. 

Millie. To see Dan ? Nonsense ! I know why he came, 
and I wish he'd stayed away, or else that we'd known 
more about him when we first met him. But who 
thought he would prove such a scamp ? I could never 
trust him again — even if he did save your life. 

Elsie. Is it proper to snub him after treating him well so 
long? 

Millie. Well, I'll admit it's rather awkward to change 
one's manner, yet, in this case, it's the only thing 
to do. 

Elsie {with spirit). Certainly it's the only thing for you 
to do — if you feel that way. 

Millie. And it's the only thing for you. 

Elsie. I shall treat him as my conscience dictates, and, 
anyway, I would never kick a man when he's down. 

Millie. Well, you needn't be so sharp about it. It makes 
me feel wretched as it is. At first I thought the freedom 
of the social law out here was so fine. But I find it 
isn't. I tell you, this Sapello had no right to come im- 
posing on us in the first place. 
20 



TEE TEXAN 

Elsie. He never made any advances. Dan hunted him 
up and insisted that he visit us. 

Millie. He did seem nice enough, but you'll admit now it 
was only pretense. 

Elsie. I'll admit nothing of the kind. I believe in giving 
a man his just dues. Buck Sapello is trying to make a 
man of himself. You mark my words, he has not al- 
ways been what he seems, and some day he's going to 
prove his worth so forcibly that you and Dan won't be 
able to do enough for him. 

{Enter Dan, Carl, Major Allen Truesdell and Ethel 
Truesdell, door l. c, and Wesley, door r.) 

Dan. Elsie ! Millie ! I want to present Major Truesdell 
and his daughter, Miss Ethel. {To Major #w?Ethel.) 
My wife and sister. {They exchange greetings, Ethel 
kissing both Millie and Elsie. Dan turns to Wes- 
ley.) And this is a newcomer in the Pecos country — 
Mr. Doyle. 

(Wesley and Major shake hands ; Ethel bows.) 

Major. We're charmed, I'm sure. Being so far from the 
fort, it seems good to know you have neighbors. 

Ethel. Your ranch is a regular oasis in our desert. When 
I found there were women so near, I threw my cap in 
the air and gave three cheers. I was so hungry to see 
something with skirts on, I just had to kiss you both. 

Millie. Well, we're every bit as glad to see you, my dear, 
so ease your mind on that score. 

Major. We hope to have you ladies down at camp at least 
once a day. We'll try and keep you out of the guard- 
house. 

Ethel. And see that none of the officers run away with 
Miss Elsie. 

Elsie {laughing'). Oh, I don't believe they'd want me. 

Ethel. Well, they just think they own me. Just because 
I'm little. {Touts.) It's only a year and a half since 
they stopped calling me "Baby" — just think of that ! 
I tell you, when you're owned by a whole regiment, it's 
hard to be dignified. 

Elsie. Well, I can't say that I agree with you, never hav- 
ing been owned by a regiment. 

Ethel. How delightfully independent you are. Well, you 

21 



TEE TEXAN 

don't have an orderly forever on duty at your 
heels. 
Major. Or a major to boss you. 

{Horse's hoofs are heard in the distance, faintly at first, 
thetz growing louder. They finally pause outside. ) 

Dan. Elsie is independent, Miss Ethel — there's no getting 
around that. She has a will of her own, and I must 
say she exercises it pretty much all the time. Hello, 
who's that? I hope they haven't been running off any 
more of your horses, Major ? 

Major. I hope not ! {Enter Swiftwing, door at back. 
He has a note which he hands to Major, saluting.) 
What's this ? ( Tears it open. ) 

Swiftwing {saluting again). Dunno ! Man say give to 
Major quick. 

Major {reading note). H'm! {Strokes moustache fiercely.) 
H'm ! {To Swiftwing.) Who gave you this note? 

Swiftwing. Man on hoss. {Points.) Come from that-a- 
way. 

Major. A white man ? 

Swiftwing. No, an Injun. 

Dan. Is it anything serious, Major ? 

Major. It looks that way, Inman. This note from one of 
my scouts would lead me to infer that the Mescalero 
Apaches have decided to join the Comanches against us. 

Carl {aside to Wesley, with a wink). Here's where we 
find if the Major's been ringing a bluff. 

(Weslev smiles indulgently.) 

Dan. What will you do about it, Major ? 

Major. Find Sapello and get his counsel in the matter. 

{To Swiftwing.) Do you know Buck Sapello when 

you see him ? 
Swiftwing {saluting — stiffly). Yes, Major. 
Major. Then find him and tell him to come here at once. 

You will likely catch him at the camp. 

(Swiftwing salutes, and exits door at back. Sound of 
hoofs receding.) 

Ethel. And is there really going to be a fight, papa? 
Major. I fear so. I won't be able to say positively until 
I have had a talk with Sapello. He has lived among 

22 



THE TEXAN 

these Apaches and knows their nature. If he says fight, 

we fight. If he advises against it, we shall endeavor to 

accomplish the peaceful mission which brought us here. 
Carl. I hope it'll be a scrap, myself. 
Elsie. You bloodthirsty imp ! What good will it do you? 
Carl. Lots. That is, if the Major' 11 have me. I can 

break the record killin' Injuns if he'll gimme a good 

gun. 
Dan. The Major has no time to waste on boys. 
Carl. Well, who's a boy? Ain't I sixteen, and if I'm 

sixteen ain't I a man? You make me tired ! You 

think if I go away to fight, I won't come back to the 

ranch any more. Shows you don't know me. 
Major (amused). So you really want to fight Indians? 
Carl (embarrassed). Yes, your highness — I — I mean 

Major, sir. 
Major. Well, could you pick out an Indian's heart at one 

hundred yards ? 
Carl. Could I? Well, I should hope to snicker ! I — I 

mean yes, sir, I could. I shot a rooster's head off twice 

as far away as that oncet. 
Elsie (laughing in protest). Carl, you'll disgrace us ! 
Carl (to Major). You believe me, don't you, sir? 
Major (tugging at Ms moustache). Humph ! If you're 

as good at shooting as you are at telling stories, you 

should easily command a regiment. 
Carl (aside to Wesley). Now, wouldn't that rattle your 

window-panes ? j 
Wesley. I think Carl's intentions are good, Major. We 

should never discourage laudable ambitions. Carl may 

be a great general some day. 
Carl. Thank you, sir, only I don't want to be a general. 

I want to be a big, roaring, slap-bang scout like Buck 

Sapello. 
Wesley. Say, it's Sapello, Sapello, wherever I go. It's all 

I've heard since I came here. I'd like to see this won- 
derful fellow. 
Elsie. You will probably have the pleasure in a very short 

time. 

(Enter Buck, door l. c. Comes straight down to Major.) 

Buck (saluting). You wished to see me, sir ? 

2 3 



THE TEXAN 

(Wesley and Carl are talking up r. and have not noticed 
Buck's entrance.') 

Major. Yes, Sapello. I have received a rather startling 
piece of intelligence. Oh, by the way, this is my daugh- 
ter. (Buck and Ethel bow.) Do you know Mr. In- 
man and his wife and sister ? (Buck nods.) 

Dan. Yes, we've met before. Here, Doyle — {to Wesley) 
meet Mr. Sapello. (To Buck.) A friend of ours from 
the East, Sapello. 

(Wesley starts down stage hand outstretched, Buck starts 
to meet him. They look into each other's eyes. Buck 
stops with a cool stare. Wesley gives a violent start.) 

Wesley (aside). My brother ! 

(He still holds out hand, but Buck gives it a contemptuous 
glance and turns away. Wesley retires up stage 
crestfallen. The Major does not observe the slight, 
but the others exchange wondering glances.) 

Major (to Buck). I have here a note, informing me that 
the Mescalero Apaches are on the war-path, and are 
thinking seriously of joining the Comanches against us. 
What would you advise? 

Buck. I would advise you to pay no attention to the note. 

Major. You think ? 

Buck (interrupting). That the writer of that note didn't 
know what he was talking about. 

Major. Then there is no cause for apprehension ? 

Buck. Not if the Mescaleros are handled rightly. 

Major. You have influence with them ? 

Buck. In a way — yes. 

Major. And you will use it? 

Buck. If it becomes necessary. I would suggest that 
matters be allowed to stand as they are for the present, 
and that any Mescaleros that come our way be treated 
civilly. 

Major. Very well ; I shall follow your suggestions. Come 
back in five minutes. I may have an important mis- 
sion for you. 

(Buck salutes, bows to ladies and exits door L. C.) 

Ethel. Papa, your friend Sapello seems rather uncivil. 

24 



THE TEXAN 

Major. He means well. He is quite a character, and has 
been invaluable to us during the present Indian troubles. 
He is, I believe, averse to meeting strangers. Anyway, 
the men down at the camp don't take to him much. 
His work makes amends for that, however. He came 
in last night from a trip I don't believe any other white 
man could have made and got back alive. Yes ; Sa- 
pello has his good points, and they're in decided demand 
up here just now. 

Dan. You are right, Major. Sapello has many good 
points along with the bad ones. His greatest draw- 
back is that he has been what is known out here as a 
"squaw man." 

Ethel. Well, surely that's enough to hear of him. 

Elsie. Don't say anything against him till you know you 
have reason, Miss Ethel. He saved my life once, for 
which I am very grateful. 

Ethel. Well, if you've taken him under your wing, I 
reckon his social success is assured. 

Elsie. He probably has few social aspirations, but he is 
entitled to a fair hearing. 

Major. Any man is entitled to that. You're true blue, 
Miss Elsie. I'm proud to know you. 

Elsie (dropping a little curtsey). Thank you, Major. 

Millie. Don't, Major Truesdell, or Elsie's vanity will get 
the better of her. 

Major. Oh, I'll risk that, Mrs. Inman. But come, Ethel, 
my dear. We must be going. I have stayed longer 
than I intended already. 

(Major and Ethel go up to door at back.) 

Ethel {kissing Elsie). Good-bye, Miss Elsie. Good- 
bye, Mrs. Inman and every one. (All bow, or say 
"Good-bye " to her. ) I just can't begin to tell you how 
happy I am to know there are other women up here in 
the hills. I shall count the minutes till you come down 
to the camp. 

Elsie. Don't fear — we shan't be long. 

Dan. I'll see the Major off, Millie. 

(Millie nods. Exeunt Major, Ethel, Dan and Carl, 

door l. c.) 

Millie. Well, I must find Aunty Lou. If we visit the 

2 5 



TEE TEXAN 

camp to-morrow I'm going to take a large piece of 
roast venison for the Major's table. 

{Exit Millie, door l. Elsie, smiling, turns toward 
Wesley.) 

Wesley. May I smoke ? 

Elsie. Certainly. (Wesley lights cigar.') 

Wesley. I beg your pardon — I do not mean to appear in- 
quisitive, but — do you mind giving me a few particu- 
lars about this man, Sapello? 

Elsie. You are displaying rather a curious interest in Mr. 
Sapello, don't you think, Mr. Doyle? Suppose — sup- 
pose you ask him ! 

{Exit Elsie, door l.) 

Wesley {looking after her). Humph ! {He starts as if 
he would follow her, then goes thoughtfully up R. 
Pause. He is thinkifig.) And he refused to recog- 
nize me ! {With a shrug.) Oh, well ! 

{Exit, door r.) 

{Enter Swiftwing door at back.) 

Swiftwing {looking around, softly calling). Miss Elsie 
Inman — oh, Miss Elsie Inman ! {No answer. He 
pauses in indecision.) I wonder where she be. Oh, 
Miss Elsie Inman ! 

{Enter Elsie, door l.) 

Elsie. What is it, Swiftwing ? 

Swiftwing {finger to lips in caution). Sh ! A brave — 
one of my tribe — bring this from Devil's Mountain. 

{Hands her note.) 

Elsie {tearing it open and reading). " Miss Elsie : I am 
sick. Have been snowed in three days without food. 
I send this by a friendly Apache. Do what you can 
for me. Your old friend, Davy McDougall." {Looks 
up.) This is terrible. Where is this Indian, Swift- 
wing ? 

Swiftwing. Him outside. No can walk. Tired out. 
Cannot go back. Swiftwing, he go, Miss Elsie. 
26 



THE TEXAN 

Elsie. No. Listen. Davy McDougall taught me to ride 
and shoot, when I first came out here. He knows I'd 
do anything for him. But he and Dan had a little 
misunderstanding. That's why he sends to me. I am 
going to him myself. He may be sick enough to need 
nursing. Saddle my horse, and bring him around to 
the front of the house. Don't let any one see you. 
Understand ? 

Swiftwing {in tone of protest). Yes, but Swiftwing he go 
too, Miss Elsie. 

Elsie. No. I forbid it. And, mind you, say nothing 
about this. Let them think I have ridden down to 
camp. Why — it's not so far — with a good horse. 

(She sticks note in her belt, but it f alts to floor unobserved.) 

Swiftwing (with reluctance). All right. Swiftwing do as 
you say. 

(Exits slowly, door l. c.) 

Elsie. I must prepare some food while Swiftwing is sad- 
dling the horse, but I must not arouse Millie's suspi- 
cions, and I must avoid Aunty Lou. 

(Exits cautiously, door l.) 

(There is a knock on door l. c. Elsie reenters with bun- 
dle of food. The knock is repeated — she stops as if to 
answer it, then changes her mind, and tiptoeing R., 
exits door r. Enter Captain George Henderson, 
door l. c. He looks about.) 

Captain. Humph ! All gone, apparently — just when I 
was expecting to have a little tete-a-tete with Miss In- 
man. I hear she's a stunning girl ! 

(He goes to fire where he warms his hands. The door at 
back opens suddeiily and Buck enters. ) 

Buck (surprised at seeing Captain). Hello! 

Captain (sternly). Sapello, what are you doing in this 
house? 

Buck (coolly). I might ask the same of you. 

Captain. Curse your impudence ! I — I — well, I'm look- 
ing for Major Truesdell. 

27 



THE TEXAN 

Buck. Perhaps, 

Captain. What ! 

Buck. Oh, I've heard the boys talking about the conquest 
you've been boasting you'd make when you met Miss 
Inman. 

Captain. I tell you I'm looking for Major Truesdell. 
Have you seen him ? 

Buck. You'll get no information from me. 

Captain. Answer me civilly, or don't speak at all. 

Buck. I'll answer as I please. I'm not under your orders. 

Captain. Look here! {Goes up to Buck-— they glare at 
each other.} You've done nothing but cause dissen- 
sion since you joined the army at Fort Hancock. 

Buck. I might question that. But suppose I have — what 
of it? 

Captain. I, for one, am getting tired of it. 

Buck. You know the alternative. 

Captain. What do you mean ? 

Buck. I'll let you guess it. Did you come here to ques- 
tion me ? 

Captain. I told you I came to find the Major. 

Buck. Well, he's not here, and I undertake to say that the 
people who live here don't want to see you. 

Captain (raging). You— you — you insignificant 

Buck (interrupting). In other words, they are likely to 
need the room you're standing in. 

Captain. You dare talk this way to me ! (Raises his 
hand as if to strike. Buck looks him in the eye.} 
Why, I'll— I'll 

Buck (folding arms, calmly). Well, why don't you? 

Captain. I — I — I 

(Splutters, so angry he cannot talk. Buck takes hold of his 
upraised hand and forces it down to his side.) 

Buck. You'll do nothing at all. You're a coward at heart, 
and you know it. I've been itching to get my hands 
on you ever since I saw you flog that young boy at the 
fort. You're an inhuman brute and I want you to 
know I think so. 

Captain. I — I — Sapello, I'll (Interrupted.) 

Buck. Oh, no, you won't. You'll get out of here, and in 
the future just leave me out of all your calculations. 
28 



THE TEXAN 

If you don't you'll get into more trouble than you can 
manage. 

Captain. Have you dared tell these women here that I 
flogged a boy ? 

Buck. I hope it will not be necessary for me to mention 
you in their presence. (Points.') Now, there's the 
door. This house can't shelter us both at the same 
time. 

Captain. I'll go when I get ready. 

Buck. You'll go now or I'll throw you out ! 

Captain (looking at him a moment, deciding he means busi- 
ness). You'll hear further from this ! 

Buck. Go the limit ! 

(The Captain's hands twitch and his face is distorted with 
rage. He glares at Buck an instant, then exits 
door l. c , slamming it. At the same instant Wesley 
enters door r.) 

Wesley. Buck ! (Buck turns and coolly stares at him.) 
Come, old man, don't act so ugly about it. Let me 
speak a few words and tell you what I came out here 
for. 

Buck (sullenly). I don't want to know. 

Wesley. You must listen, and grant me one favor, then I 
won't bother you further. Where is my wife? Where 
is Jennie, Buck ? 

Buck. I won't tell you. 

Wesley. Please, Buck. I want to go back to her. 

Buck. No. Do you think after these years I'd do any- 
thing so foolish as to let you bother her again ? I'll 
see you in blazes first. So you can hit the trail back 
East as soon as you've a mind to. 

Weslev. I shall never go back till I get what I came for. 

Buck. Then you'll stay out here forever ! You'll have a 
chance to become what I have — an outlaw from civili- 
zation. 

Wesley. You are unjust to yourself. 

Buck. I'm not. I know — you don't. 

Wesley. But you are. (Crosses to him.) Listen, Buck ! 
My repentance is true. I want to see Jennie and — and 
my child! I'm homesick for a sight of them. Now 
that I see my folly, it seems that you might change and 

2Q 



THE TEXAN 

show that you have some feeling and know that other 
men have. 

Buck (fiercely)* You're a nice one to talk. You married, 
and deserted within a year, as fine and true a little 
woman as ever lived. She and the baby that came 
afterward would have starved to death if I hadn't 
learned of it just in time. She's better off now without 
you. I told you if you ever went back to Jennie, I'd 
kill you, and I'll keep my vow. 

Wesley. But I love her, Buck — I swear I do ! 

Buck. You said you did five years ago, yet you went off 
and forgot her. 

(Wesley drops into chair at table, head in his arms, sob- 
bing. Finally he rises and turns toward Buck again.) 

Wesley. Ah, I know, Buck ! I've been punished every 
day since. I've tried to forget it all, but it nearly 
drove me mad. So I set out to find you. I hunted 
for months and never found a trace until- — until to-day. 

Buck. It would have been better if you had never found 
me. 

Wesley. No. I have at least made you see that I wish 
to make amends. I've showed you that I want to win 
back the old faith you had in me before our parents 
died, and Jennie was left to our care. 

Buck. You can save your fine speeches. They're wasted 
on me. And don't you dare tell Miss Inman or any 
one else out here that we are brothers. 

Wesley. I won't, Buck. Why should I? 

Buck. You have a little way of doing things without 
reason. And don't go making eyes at Miss Inman. 
You're no more fit to associate with her than I am, and 
I'm willing to admit that that's saying about as little as 
a man can say for you. 

(Enter Millie, door l.) 

Millie. Oh, I beg your pardon ! But have either of you 

gentlemen seen Elsie ? 
Buck. She hasn't been in here during the past ten minutes, 

Mrs. Inman. 
Millie. I can't imagine what's become of her. (Sees note 

on floor. Picks it tip — reads.) Oh, this is terrible. 

(Both men start sympathetically toward her.) 

3° 



THE TEXAN 



Buck. Mrs. Inman, what is wrong? 

Millie. This is a note to Elsie from Davy McDougall, 
her old trapper friend. He is ill on Devil's Mountain, 
and she must have gone to him. Just think, and in 
this storm ! I fear the worst — I fear the worst ! What 
can we do ? 

Buck. Why, I'll go for her, Mrs. Inman. 

Millie (embarrassed). Well, well — er — you — you might 
send some one if you will. I — I 

Buck (bitterly). I see, Mrs. Inman, you don't want to 
trust her alone on the mountain with me. You fear 
the rumors that might creep out about her being with a 
man of my reputation. Very well, Mrs. Inman. I will 
send some one for her. You may tell Mr. Inman and 
the others, if you like, that I have sent some one who 
can be trusted to bring her home safe. 

Millie. Oh, thank you, Mr. Sapello. I — I thought per- 
haps you would like to send some one — perhaps Swift- 
wing for her. 

(Hanging head as if half ashamed, she goes r.) 

Wesley. Don't worry. Mr. Sapello will keep his promise, 

I am sure. 
Millie. All right. But — oh, I wish Dan were here ! 

(Pressing handkerchief to her eyes, she exits R.) 

Wesley (quickly, to Buck). You must let me go on this 
journey. It will be far better for a white man to make 
it. These Indians are all treacherous. 

Buck. Do you reckon for a moment that a man who de- 
serted one girl in the hills of Virginia could be en- 
trusted with another in the Sierra Diablos ? 

Wesley. But, Buck, I (Pause.) 

Buck. That's enough ! A white man is going for her — 
myself ! If I find her, I reckon you'll hear of it. If I 

don't (Slowly and tenderly.) If I don't, tell 

Mr. and Mrs. Inman that I sent a man who would give 
his life for her — ay, a thousand if he had them ! 

curtain 

(Second curtain : — Buck seen going out door, Wesley 
standing hands extended toward him in a pleading 
attitude.) 

3 1 



ACT II 

SCENE. — Interior of cabin used as temporary guard-house 
of the army. Large, rough-hewn door, c, at back. 
Cot, with comforter and pillow, down r. Stool near by. 
Table c, on which is a lighted candle, which sheds a 
rather dim light through the room. Down L. is a 
rough chair or bench. 

(Buck is discovered seated on stool near cot, a dejected 
look on his face. Captain's gruff tones are heard out- 
side immediately after rise of curtain. He enters, a 
scowl on his face, followed by Trooper Murphy, who 
carries a carbine. Captain pauses a, and looks at 
Buck. Murphv stands near door, the butt of his 
weapon resting on the floor. ) 

Captain {to Buck). Well, now that you're in the guard- 
house, perhaps you'll come to your senses and realize 
that I mean business. (Buck shrugs his shoulders and 
looks at Captain with a sneer.) Tell me where you 
spent the night ! 

Buck {sullenly). That's my business. I refuse to answer. 

Captain. Eh ? You 

Buck. I said I refused ! Is that plain ? 

Captain. You sit there and defy me after what I have told 
you? 

Buck. Yes. 

Captain. You had best think twice before making your 
final answer. 

Buck. If I thought a dozen times the result would be the 
same. 

Captain. Where's your half-breed, Swiftwing ? 

Buck. I don't see how his whereabouts can concern you. 
He is my Indian, and neither he nor I belong to the 
army in the sense you do. We can leave camp when 
it suits us, and it's nobody's business. I don't mind 
telling you, however, that I sent him down to Van 
Horn. 

Captain. For what purpose ? 

3 2 



THE TEXAN 

Buck. You're too inquisitive. 

Captain. For what purpose, I say? 

Buck. My own purpose. 

Captain. What business? 

Buck. My own business. 

Captain. Yes, the same business that kept you away from 
camp all night, I suppose? 

Buck. The very same. 

Captain. Well, since you refuse to answer, you may, until 
such a time as I have had an opportunity of investi- 
gating your very suspicious absence, remain here under 
arrest. 

Buck. On what charge ? 

Captain. You know as well as I. 

Buck. I know nothing of the sort. Your men made no 
charge against me — simply said I was under arrest by 
your orders. Then you come and ask me to explain 
my whereabouts last night, and I refuse, because it's 
none of your business. 

Captain. Your assumption of injured innocence is de- 
lightful. You play your hand very well for a horse 
thief. 

Buck (springing toward him). Take that back or I'll kill 
you ! 

(Captain covers him with his revolver. Buck pauses. 
Murphy raises his gun and aims it at Buck, who falls 
back after a moment.) 

Captain. I'll explain when I get good and ready. And 
don't make any more attempts at violence, or they'll 
take you out of here on a stretcher — and I don't want 
that — it might hurt the stretcher ! ( With a cruel laugh 
he turns.') Murphy! 

Murphy {saluting). Yes, sir. 

Captain. Have you the rope? 

Murphy. Yes, sir. 

{Reaches outside the door and gets it.) 

Captain. Bind Sapello's hands in front of him. That will 

be indignity enough for the present. 
Murphy. Yes, sir. 

33 



THE TEXAN 



(lie binds Buck's hands, the latter submitting with rather 
bad grace.) 

Buck {to Captain). I suppose you feel safer now ? 
(Murphy returns to his place by the door.) 

Captain. I wish simply to show you the futility of further 

resistance. 
Buck. Well, I don't know what your game is, but you're 

up to some dirty work, I'll be bound, and I'm ready to 

be under arrest just to see the fur fly when the Major 

returns from down the valley. 
Captain. Yes, he will have an abundance of sympathy for 

a horse thief. 
Buck. Say, would you mind telling me whose horse I 

stole? Being the party most concerned, I think I'm 

entitled to that information. 
Captain. Of course, you don't remember how you and 

your Apache friends ran off half the horses belonging 

to Troop K last night ? 
Buck. You don't know what you're talking about. I 

don't believe an Apache ever touched any of your 

horses last night, and I know very well I never did. 
Captain. We're wasting words. If you didn't run off the 

horses, you'll find no trouble about explaining your 

absence last night. And even this much explanation is 

more than your insolence deserves. 
Buck. Again I say it's an infernal lie. No Apache ever 

touched your stock. If there are horses missing they 

were run off by the thieving Comanches and their white 

friends, and if you interfere with the Apaches at this 

stage of the game, or try to put the blame on them for 

this, you'll find yourself in trouble. 
Captain. When I need your advice I'll ask for it. 
Buck. You'll get it when I'm in the mind to give it to you 

— put that in your pipe and smoke it. 
Captain. Well, I'm going to make it mighty warm for you 

from now on. 
Buck. I'm willing to take my chances on that. I can 

easily satisfy. Major Truesdell of my innocence, if I 

care to. 
Captain. Then why not satisfy me ? 
Buck. I don't care to. You'll have enough trouble hold- 

34 



THE TEXAN 

ing yourself level with these Apaches, pending the 
Major's return. There's been just a suspicion of trouble 
with them, but affairs have passed the crisis, and the 
Apaches are only awaiting the Major's return to camp 
to send us word that they will join us against the 
Comanches if needed. The messenger is likely to come 
with that message at any time, and it will be a bad 
thing for our cause if he isn't received in this camp as 
a friend. 

Captain {with a sneer). Our cause, eh ? What interest 
have you in the cause ? 

Buck. Not a great deal, I'll admit, except that I hope to 
save a great many lives of settlers here in the valley — 
lives that would be lost in a useless fight. 

Captain. You acknowledge then that you don't consider 
the cause of the whites your cause? 

Buck. Yes, I'll acknowledge that, so make me a horse 
thief on it if you can. I'd work for the red men quicker 
than I would for a man like you. But there's nothing 
to be gained by fighting for them. They'd only be ex- 
terminated in the end. I've been a good friend to 
Uncle Sam, but it's been to save innocent lives. It's 
been to have peace — not war. Now you've got my 
ideas in a nutshell 

Captain. Yes, very plainly expressed. And to show your 
entire sympathy with the red fiends you helped them 
steal our horses. 

Buck {starting forward). Oh, if I had you five min- 
utes 

{There is a rap on door. Captain turns, just as Murphy 
opens it.) 

{Enter Carl.) 

Captain. Well, my boy, what is it? 

Carl {saluting). Mrs. Inman says, sir, do you know where 
Mr. Inman and Mr. Doyle are, sir? They've been 
gone almost all day, and the women folks is worried, 
sir. 

Captain. They've gone up into the hills with some of our 
troops. 

Carl. Up into the hills ! 

Captain. Yes, and as there's considerable danger con- 
nected with the venture, I'd advise you to say nothing 

35 



THE TEXAN 

about it. Tell the ladies they are out on the range 
with the cattle and will return safely to-night or to- 
morrow morning. 

Carl. Yes, sir — thank you, sir. (6^ Buck.) Oh, hello, 
Mr. Sapello. 

Buck. Hello, boy ! 

Carl. I didn't know you were here. They're all wonder- 
ing up at the house what's become of you. The Indian 
you sent found Miss Elsie all right. (Buck starts.) 

Buck. The — the — er — yes — yes. 

Carl. I reckon you're glad to hear that? 

Buck. Indeed I am, youngster. Did — er — that is, did she 
say anything about the — er — Indian ? 

Carl. No, sir, 'cept that he treated her mighty well. 

Buck. Did she say that ? 

Carl. Yes, sir. But you'd better come up and let her tell 
you about that herself. 

Buck. I can't, boy. I'm under arrest. 

Carl. Under arrest? You under arrest, sir? 

Buck. Yes. 

Carl. Well, who in the dickens did that ? 

Buck (nodding toward Captain). It ! 

Carl. What you under arrest for? 

Buck. Merely a whim, as near as I can find out. 

Captain. He was arrested for horse stealing, my boy. 

Carl. Horse stealing ! I don't believe it. 

Captain. He was absent from camp early this morning 
when our horses were run off, and refuses to explain his 
whereabouts. We believe he was with the Apaches 
when they ran off the stock. 

Carl {backing slowly toivard the door). Well, I don't be- 
lieve it, and you'll find there's lots of other people don't, 
neither. (To Buck.) Oh, I'm very sorry, sir, but I 
think it will come out all right. 

Buck {significantly). It will turn out all wrong for some 
one. 

Carl (jerking his thumb toward Captain). For — it? 

Buck (smiling). Yes, for — it. 

Captain (half angrily to Carl). You're an impudent 
young rascal. Now get along and tell the ladies what 
I told you. 

Carl. Oh, I'll tell 'em, all right. But I'm sorry now that 
I saluted you. Good-bye, Mr. Buck. 

36 



THE TEXAN 

Buck. Good-bye, boy. 

(Carl turns his back on Captain, and exits, door c.) 

Captain. Murphy, I'm going up into the hills to see if I 
can find out what's become of that party. I may not 
be back before morning, but relief will be sent you on 
my return. 

Murphy (saluting). All right, sir. 

Captain (to Buck). When you decide to tell me what you 
were doing last night, you can send for me and I'll 
come to you. 

Buck. Then you'll never come. 

Captain. If I don't — -so much the worse for you. 

Buck. That's all right — your room is always better than 
your company. 

(He is still on stool and not looking at Captain.) 

Captain. I'll make you regret that speech ! 

(Buck laughs. Captain grinds his teeth in anger and exits 
door c.) 

Murphy (in an undertone to Buck, when the door closes). 
Better be quiet, sir. 

(Exit, after Captain.) 

Buck (as Murphy goes). I don't reckon I'm apt to raise 
much disturbance. (Rolls a cigarette.) This is a 
pretty mess, but I'll make that stupid fool, Henderson, 
wish he'd never been born. The Apaches have got to 
be handled with kid gloves, and I'm about the only 
man at present who can do it, as Major Truesdell 
knows. I must find out about this. (Going to door, 
he raps.) Murphy ! 

Murphy (outside). What is it ? 

Buck. Come in here, will you ? 

Murphy. Against orders, sir. 

Buck. Hang the orders ! Don't stand out there and 
freeze all night. I want to learn more of this business. 
(Murphy peeks in at door.) I've got to know the par- 
ticulars of this affair before the Major returns. 

Murphy. Captain said I wasn't to talk to you, sir. 

Buck. Don't stand telling me what the Captain said. 

37 



THE TEXAN 

He's not responsible for what he says. (Murphy 
chuckles.) Come in. 

(Buck seats himself on stool. Murphy hesitates a moment, 
then enters , rather cautiously, carbine in readiness for 
use. When he sees Buck intends no violence, he low- 
ers the hammer and stands c. , facing Buck, the butt 
of the weapon on the floor.) 

Murphy. What is it you want to know, sir? 

Buck. About the theft of these horses, of course. 

Murphy. Sure, you're a queer horse thief, to want me to 
tell you how you got away with the animals. 

Buck. I'm supposed to know all about it, according to 
Henderson, but just to pass the time away suppose you 
refresh my memory. 

Murphy ( pulling tobacco from pocket, he takes a generous 
chew, then offers it to Buck) . Have some, sir ? (Buck 
makes a gesture of dissent.) There ain't very much 
to tell, sir. Inman's men had been around pretty late 
after some stray cattle, and for a while we thought it 
was them. It was about one o'clock in the morning, 
and the snow coming so you could hardly see your 
hand before your face. The sentry heard a big racket 
in the corral where the horses were tied, and thinking 
some of Inman's cattle had got in there and were caus- 
ing disorder, he took a lantern and went to run them 
out. He had barely reached the end of the corral, sir, 
when some one knocked him on the head. He fell and 
his gun went off. It gave the alarm, and we made an 
investigation. We found over forty head of horses had 
been run off through the snow. Then this morning 
Captain Henderson sent out a party to look for the 
Apaches. That was the one Inman and Doyle went 
with, sir. 

Buck. They're ambushed, most likely. Had Henderson 
no motive in sending out troops other than to get re- 
venge for the stolen horses ? 

Murphy {with some hesitation). Well, yes, sir. I don't 
think I've any right to tell you, though, sir — I 

Buck {interrupting). Nonsense ! I've got to know. 
Go on. 

Murphy. Well, sir, Tommy Doolan shot a young buck 
this morning out on the ridge yonder. He called to 

38 



THE TEXAN 

him to halt, but the Injun paid no attention. Then 
Tommy, being riled because his horse was among the 
stolen, just let drive. 

Buck. Huh ! Kill him ? 

Murphy. Deader'n a door- nail, sir ! 

Buck. Huh ! Where was this ? 

Murphy. A mile to the north, sir — you know where that 
ridge is? (Buck nods.) It seems there was other 
Injuns with the buck, and when Tommy shot him they 
come out of the trees and opened up on our boys. 

Buck. There was a fight, then ? 

Murphy. Yes, sir — sort of a scrimmage. Our boys chased 
the Injuns as far as they could see them. 

Buck. And the buck Tommy Doolan shot? 

Murphy. They buried him where he fell, sir. 

Buck. And the troops this morning set off on the trail of 
the Apaches? 

Murphy. Yes, sir. 

Buck. How many in the party ? 

Murphy. About twenty, I should say, sir. 

Buck. Poor fools ! That settles them ! And that's where 
Doyle and Inman have gone, eh ? Fools — fools, all of 
them. I wish I were free ! I wish I were free ! 
{There is a knock on door at back.) Hello, who's 
that ? (Murphy opens it, and Elsie enters, enveloped 
in a long cloak.) Elsie ! 

( Buck speaks half aside, perplexed.) 

Murphy {removing cap). Sure, what can I do for you, 
miss ? It's a pretty bad night for the likes of you to be 
abroad. 

Elsie. I came to ask a favor. Let me speak to Mr. 
Sapello a few moments alone. 

Murphy {fingering his cap nervously). Well, now, you 
see, miss, I — I {Interrupted.) 

Elsie. I know it's against orders, but surely you're not 
afraid of me. I am Miss Inman, you know, and I have 
an important letter and message for him. 

Murphy. Well, I s'pose there's no harm in lettin' you talk 
to him, miss. But be mighty careful. I'll be right 
outside the door in case you want me. All you've got 
to do is yell. 

Elsie. Thank you, but there will be no trouble. 

39 



THE TEXAN 

Murphy. Very well, miss. 

(Murphy exits slowly , closing door. Buck does not look 
at Elsie until door is shut, then he springs quickly up.) 

Buck. Why are you here, Elsie ? 

Elsie (laughing). To pay a visit — what else ? 

Buck. Come — this is serious. Don't joke. 

Elsie. Well, I'm here, and I did not come for fun, and 

I've no time to lose. I have brought you a letter. 

Here it is. (Gives it.) 
Buck. Then you've seen Swiftwing ? 
Elsie. He just came in from Van Horn with the mail. 

Read the letter to allay suspicions. (Buck tears it 

open.) We'll let the guard see. 

(She throws open door. Murphy stops outside and looks in. ) 

Murphy. It's all right, miss — I'm right here. 

Elsie. Thank you. (Closes door.) He'll think the letter 
is all that brought me here. Now, listen. You must 
get out of this. Your horse is at the door. I rode 
him down. Do you think you can make a dash for it 
and get away? 

Buck. I might, but why should I run away ? 

Elsie. Well, for several reasons, perhaps, but principally 
because the troops that set out for the hills this morn- 
ing, with Dan and Mr. Doyle among them, are hemmed 
in in that death-trap on Blue Moon Mountain, right 
back of the cave that's on your old ranch property. I 
don't know how long they've been there, but they are 
completely surrounded by Indians — Apaches — who 
are only waiting for daylight to come to murder them. 

Buck (with a start). You must be mistaken. The 
Apaches are not hostile. 

Elsie. Yesterday they were not. To-day it is different. 
Did you hear about the young buck Tommy Doolan 
shot ? 

Buck. Yes, a Comanche — Murphy told me. 

Elsie. Buck, that Indian was not a Comanche, but an 
Apache ! 

Buck. What ! 

Elsie. Yes, the son of Gray Eagle, coming to this camp 

40 



THE TEXAN 

with a message of good will and peace. It's no wonder 

the Apaches are enraged. 
Buck. This is terrible ! Who told you ? 
Elsie. Swiftwing. He met an Indian trapper who passed 

the Blue Moon this afternoon. He says the white 

soldiers are blaming you for causing all the trouble. 

He thinks if it hadn't been for the theft of the horses 

last night, everything would have been all right. 
Buck. It's all their own fault. If they'd watched the 

thieving Comanches, like I told them, there would have 

been a different tale to tell. 

(He paces fiercely up and down.) 

Elsie. Yes, but it will be hard to make the men believe 
that. 

Buck. I don't care whether they believe it or not. 

Elsie {laying her hand on his arm). Yes, you do, Buck, 
and you must get out of here and save them. The 
ravine where they are hemmed in must be right near 
the mouth of the cave. By going in from the other 
side you can reach the ravine and lead those men out. 
Remember, Dan and Mr. Doyle are among them ! 

Buck {thoughtfully). Yes, that's right — Wesley Doyle's 
among them. 

Elsie. Lead them out, Buck. It's your only salvation. If 
they succeed in getting away without you, and return 
and find you here, they will shoot you down without 
trial. 

Buck. A nice lot they are ! But I'll do it for your sake 
— partly for your sake — partly for my own. And this 
is what you came for — to make me ride to Blue Moon 
Mountain? 

Elsie. Yes. (She draws knife from her belt and cuts the 
ropes on his wrists.) I wanted to help you out of this 
trouble, Buck, and by saving you, save my brother and 
my friends. (She reels suddenly as if faint. He puts 
his arms around her. She sighs and smiles.) That's 
better. 

Buck. It's hard to believe you're doing this for me, little 
girl. Why, you didn't even stop to think whether I 
deserved shooting or not. 

Elsie. Don't speak of that part of it. When I let myself 

41 



THE TEXAN 

think I feel as if I am growing crazy, and a crazy 
woman might handicap you some just now. Here ! 

(She throws off cloak, displaying a belt containing cartridges 
and two revolvers, which she takes off and hands to 
him.) 

Buck. Elsie, you're a great girl ! 

(He readjusts belt and puts it on.) 

Elsie. I'm glad you think so, Buck. It's the first time 
I've ever armed you and sent you away to battle. It 
may be the last. Bring my friends back safe, Buck. 
And — and — come back yourself ! 

Buck (kissing her). Then I am first to you, little girl. 

(She nods, trying to keep back the tears.) 

Elsie. Nearer than all the rest, Buck. They tried to prej- 
udice me against you, but I can't believe them. 

Buck. Never mind that. You've shown by your actions 
to-night how much you care for me, and I'll try my 
best to prove worthy. If you know how to pray, pray 
for me to-night — for me and the men in that death-trap. 
I am going now. Here is the letter you brought. 
(Hands her letter.) If I never come back and Wesley 
Doyle does, tell him things are right in the East at last, 
and that he can go back. Tell him I believe in him. 
I will come back if I live and I'll try to live long enough 
for that. One more kiss ! 

(As he takes her in his arms again, Murphy enters.) 

Murphv (cover ingBuCK with rifle). You cur — to lay hands 
on a lady ! 

(Buck knocks up the rifle, and strikes Murphy on the head 
with a revolver. Murphy falls, the revolver flies out 
of Buck's hand onto the floor. He does not stop, but 
rushes out, closing door.) 

Elsie. Oh, he's gone — he's gone ! 

Murphy (springing up). Yes, but I'll get him yet, miss S 

(He seizes his gun and starts for the door, but Elsie at the 
same moment picks up the revolver dropped by Buck 
and, back against the door, bars the way.) 

42 



THE TEXAN 

Elsie (covering Murphy). Stand where you are. He has 
gone in a good cause ! 

(Sound of hoofs outside , growing fainter.) 



CURTAIN 

(Second curtain : — Elsie shown kneeling by couch, her face 
buried in her hands. Murphy at door, looking off.) 



43 



ACT III 

SCENE. — A ravine on Blue Moon Mountain, some hours 
later. At back may be seen the side of the mountain, 
rising precipitately. In c. at back is the mouth of 
a cave, cleverly concealed by long hanging vines. Set 
rocks R. l., and doivn c. // is moonlight, and snow 
covers the ground. 

{At rise of curtain the following are discovered : Captain, 
Wesley and Dan, well down c. Grouped to l. are 
Lieutenant Thomas Purdy and the soldiers of the 
troop. They have arms, but no horses. Indian yells 
are heard itt the distance, and continue for several 
seconds after curtain is up.) 

Captain. Hear the red devils ! I tell you, Inman, I got 
here just in time. 

Dan. In time to save your hides, perhaps. You say the 
Indians trailed you hotly ? 

Captain. So hotly, and in such great numbers, I hardly 
know what we should have done had we not discovered 
this spot by accident. It may be lucky for you that we 
were able to find you. Our united forces can make a 
stronger resistance. 

Dan. At that, it only adds a few more scalps to the red 
men's belts. 

Captain. Oh, it may not be as bad as that. We can tell 
the worst before morning. I wish the red fiends would 
keep up their noise. Somehow, when they stop, it 
seems as still as death — as if, not satisfied with sur- 
rounding us, they were creeping up to catch us un- 
awares. {He shudders.) 

Dan. We're in a hole all right — no getting around that. 

Wesley. And a bad one. It was foolhardy in us to come 
up here. 

Dan. But it can't be helped. There's only one man who 
could have prevented this. 

Lieutenant (coming down and joining them). Who, for 
instance ? 

44 



THE TEXAN 



Dan. Buck Sapello. 

Lieutenant. What ! I suppose that's intended as a 

criticism of the way I managed the pursuit of the horse 

thieves ? 

Dan. Not necessarily, but (Pause.) 

Lieutenant (rather hotly). Well, anyway, I don't agree 

with you in regard to Sapello. He was more than 

likely getting ready for this when he ran off the horses 

the other night. 
Wesley. Take that back, confound you ! 

(Grasps him by the throat.) 

Lieutenant (choking). I — I 

Wesley. Buck Sapello is no horse thief ! Take it back, 

or I'll save the Indians the trouble of using their hatchets 

on you ! 
Lieutenant. I — I'll take — it — back ! 

(Wesley releases him — they glare at each other.) 

Wesley. And don't make any more remarks like that. 

Lieutenant. I won't — not now. This is no place for an 
argument — much less a fight. So I'll swallow what I 
said for the present. We'll settle the question when we 
get out of here — if we ever do. 

Wesley. At any time and place you wish. 

(The Lieutenant walks back to his men.) 

Captain. I'm surprised to find you picking a quarrel, 
Doyle — especially about such a worthless object as this 
Sapello. 

Wesley. Say, you heard what I said to him. (Points to 
Lieutenant.) Well, that goes for you, too ! 

Captain. You can't scare me. I say again, find some- 
thing better than Sapello to waste your words on. 
(Turns.) And that means you, too, Lieutenant 
Purdy. Not that I've any doubt that the man is 
guilty 

Wesley. Stop right there ! ( Going up, he looks Captain 
squarely in the eyes.) You may hold what opinion 
you will of him, but you can't tell me he's a horse 
thief. 

Captain. But I can ! 

Wesley. Not and live ! 

45 



THE TEXAN 

(They glare at each other.) 

Captain {after a pause). I always speak my convictions. 
Wesley. Well, you're not in a position to judge Buck 

Sapelio, and until you are, don't call him a thief. 

Now, I've warned you for the last time. 
Captain. I know in my own mind he is guilty, but I'll 

keep still until I can prove it to your satisfaction. 
Wesley. That you'll never be able to do, so things look 

mighty unpleasant for you. 

(Buck enters quickly and silently through vines at back, 
letting them fall in place. He is not observed.) 

Captain. I refuse to discuss the matter further. I am in 

command here, Doyle. 
Buck (stepping doiun between them). You're wrong there, 

Captain Henderson. I am in command here ! 

Captain {surprised — turning). Eh? Who ? 

Buck. Oh, you know me, all right — it hasn't been many 

hours since you saw me. 
Dan. By heaven, it's Sapelio ! 
Wesley. Buck ! 

Captain. What are you doing here? 
Buck. That you'll find out soon enough. 
Wesley (grasping his hand). But why did you come 

into this death-trap ? 
Buck. To get you fellows out, unless — (eyeing Captain 

coolly) unless Captain Henderson still disputes my 

right of command. 
Captain. I do dispute it, curse you! 
Buck. That's all the good it will do you. 
Captain. How did you get out of the guard-house ? 
Buck. By overpowering the guard. 
Captain. That only adds another to the many offenses 

chalked up against you. 
Buck. Do you know that I hold your life, and the lives 

of these other men, in the palm of my hand ? 
Captain. I don't believe it ! 
Buck. Unless I say the word, you will never leave this 

place alive. 
Captain. Then, loving me as you do, I suppose you'll 

never say the word. 
Buck. Yes, I will. I wouldn't leave a dog in a place like 

this. 

46 



THE TEXAN 

Captain. How did you get in ? 

Buck. By the same way that you'll go out. {Turns to 
the men.) You fellows want to leave this hole, don't 
you? 

Men. Yes, yes. You bet we do, etc. 

Buck. Where are your horses ? 

Dan. Huddled together at the other end of the ravine. 

Buck. They can't go where I am going to take you any- 
way. You'll have to leave them. 

Captain. I refuse to desert the horses. 

Buck. Just what I expected from a man of your disposi- 
tion. If these men are kept here till daylight by your 
commands, I'll not be responsible for their deaths. 
I'm here to get them out, and you, too, if you want to 
come. 

Captain. Oh, I'll come, all right. 

Buck. I thought maybe you'd decide to. You haven't 
the nerve to stay if we'd let you. 

Captain. Well, I'm going to have the poor horses shot — 
we'll leave only the carcasses. 

Buck. We've no time for that sort of work. The shots 
would be heard and the Apaches wouldn't wait until 
morning to celebrate their feast. It serves you right 
to lose your horses for letting them get into such a trap 
as this. 

Lieutenant (approaching him). I suppose that's thrown 
at me. Well, I'll have you understand 

{Interrupted.) 

Buck. If you open your head again to me I'll take you 

across my knee and spank you. 
Lieutenant. I — I 

{Pauses, then hastily withdraws.) 

Dan. How do you propose to get us out of here, Sapello? 

Buck. Through a secret exit, known only to myself — the 
way I came in. This ravine is on an old claim 1 
staked out when I first came to the Southwest, five 
years ago. 

Dan. And you came all the way up here to give us the 
benefit of your knowledge? That's what I call a 
mighty white thing to do. Here's my hand on that t 
47 



THE TEXAN 



Buck (refusing it). That's ali right, Inman. I'm glad 
for old times' sake that you were moved by such a 
friendly impulse, but I reckon it would be pretty low 
to let you take me on false pretenses. 

Dan. Oh, come, now, that's all right, Sapello. 

Buck. No; it's not all right. I haven't been acquitted of 
horse stealing yet, and that's about the most low-lived 
trade a man can turn to in this country. 

Dan. Oh, to the devil with the horse business ! This 
clears that as far as we're concerned. Doesn't it, boys ? 

(Turns.) 

Men. Yes, yes. Sure it does, etc. 

Buck. Well, it happens that you fellows haven't the power 
to settle the matter. Come now. I left some pine 
torches in a cave not far from here. I don't want any 
of you to strike a light after you reach the other 
entrance. I'll show you the way, and you'd better 
make a bee-line for camp. The fog may hide you till 
sunup, but after that—look out ! These Apaches have 
a knack of seeing a long way. 

Dan. But surely you're coming with us ? 

Buck. Well, no. You see, I've got a horse waiting for 
me in the cave back there — and anyway I'm not ready 
to leave. 

Wesley. You must come, Buck. 

Buck. No ; I want to think this matter over. Thanks to 
Mr. Tommy Doolan and his rifle, my work isn't over 
yet. 

Captain. I suppose you're sore because he shot that young 
buck down on the ridge near camp. Well, we gave 
the Indian a decent burial. 

Buck. Yes, and I dug him up. 

Captain. You dug him up? What for? 

Buck. To furnish you with convincing proof of what a 
consummate ass you had made of yourself. Do you 
remember what \ told you in -the guard-house about a 
message of good will the Apaches were sending to our 
camp? 

Captain. Yes, but it hasn't come yet, as anybody knows 
of. Instead we get this. 

Buck. Hasn't come yet! (There is fine scorn in his 
tones.) Why, it had already come when I was telling 



THE TEXAN 

you about it, only you didn't have sense enough to 
know it. Do you see this? {Holds up paper.) Well, 
that's a message of peace from the Apache tribe; it's 
an offer to help our troops against the Comanches ! 
That is the result that Major Truesdell has been hoping 
for — it represents the sum total of my work since com- 
ing into the hills. Success within our grasp, and ruined 
by a dunce of an army officer who should but don't 
know his business ! 

Captain. I don't understand you. 

Buck. That message was sent by Gray Eagle, the biggest 
chief of the Apache tribe, and the messenger was Gray 
Eagle's son, Snowcap, the future chief of his people. 
And Doolan shot him down like a dog, when he bore a 
flag of truce, then fired on his comrades when they 
dared try to avenge his death. I wouldn't have blamed 
them if they'd scalped every mother's son of you ! 

Captain (humiliated). In heaven's name, Sapello, are 
you speaking the truth? 

(In the stress of his excitement he puts his hand on Buck's 
shoulder. Buck shakes it off.) 

Buck. Take your hand away ! I don't want to be polluted 
by the touch of such as you. Now, here's the paper ; 
when you get to the light, read it, then give it to Major 
Truesdell with an account of this whole affair. And 
now, let the fellows who stripped Snowcap's body of 
its ornaments dig up everything they've got of his, and 
waste no time about it either. (There is a shuffling of 
feet among the men.) Come on, you fellows ! Don't 
stand like a pack of idiots ! File past me here and 
drop them in my hat, and see that you produce every 
one. (They do so.) A nice clean-handed lot of 
soldiers you are, without grit enough to hold up a train 
or rob a mail coach, but with plenty for robbing the 
body of a poor dead boy. 

Lieutenant. Well, you needn't blame the whole squad, 
Sapello ; Tommy Doolan took these things from the 
buck after he shot him. 

Buck. Certainly it was after he shot him. He hadn't the 
nerve to attempt it before. 

Lieutenant. Well, there's no use cursing him, for he was 

49 



THE TEXAN 

buried back there in the ravine. The Apaches finished 
him. 
Buck. And saved me the trouble. ( Walking back to the 
mouth of the cave, he pulls vines away.*) Through that 
hole, now, every one of you, and light your torches 
once you're inside. {They go, led by Lieutenant.) 
Go straight through to the other side of the hill. You 
can't miss the exit. As soon as you come out on the 
other side you'll know where you are. 

(As he finishes, Captain crawls through, leaving only Dan 
and Wesley.) 

Dan. I wish you'd come with us, Sapello. 
Buck. No, Inman — my work isn't finished yet. 
Dan. Then good-bye, and good luck. 

(Exit after others.) 

Wesley (at entrance, taking Buck's hand). You're not 
really going to stay here, are you, Buck ? 

Buck. I've got to. There's work to do. It doesn't mat- 
ter much about me, anyway. I — — (Interrupted.) 

Wesley. But it does matter, Buck. I can't afford to lose 
you now when you're beginning to realize that I'm in 
earnest in my repentance. Come with us, won't you ? 

Buck. No; don't urge me. I've a duty to perform. But 
say, there's a lady down in the valley I treated pretty 
badly in the guard-house last night. 

Wesley. You don't mean Miss Inman? 

Buck. That's just who I mean. 

Wesley. You say you treated her badly. Why, I 
don't (Interrupted. ) 

Buck. I mean this. She was good enough to ride over to 
the guard-house and bring me a letter. Swiftwing 
brought it from Van Horn, and it concerns you deeply. 
I told her to give it to you if you got out of here alive. 
Well, you know they might think she connived at my 
escape, but you know very well, old man, whether she 
would do a thing like that. But I took her revolver 
from her, overpowered the sentry, sprang into the sad- 
dle of her horse, and rode like the wind. I don't want 
the people in the valley to get the impression she 
countenanced my escape. Tell them what I've told 
you. 

5° 



THE TEXAN 

Wesley. Be sure I shall. As for Miss Inman, you need 
never fear her judgment of you. 

Buck. I've been pretty hard on you, Wes — pretty hard. 
All at once I've realized it, and all the time you've 
been thinking a heap better of me than I deserved. 
But I won't stand in your way any longer. The letter 
Miss Inman brought me was from Jennie. It will ex- 
plain it all. If I should happen to come back 

(Interrupted.) 

Wesley. Come back ! Why, where are you going ? 

Buck. I'm going to take the dead body of that Indian boy, 
Snowcap, and hit the trail for the Apache camp, to see 
if I can't find a way to patch up this blunder. 

Wesley. Oh, that's foolhardy — it's dangerous ! 

Buck. Yes. But if there's any way of doing it I can do 
it. If I get out of it alive, I'll be back to stand trial 
for stealing horses. But if I'm not back on the even- 
ing of the third day, you'd better take the Inmans and 
the whole blamed army and get out of the valley, for 
the Apaches won't show any quarter. Now, good-bye, 
old man ; keep up heart, and tell Miss Inman to give 
you that letter. 

Wesley (greatly affected). Buck — my God, man ! I 
can't leave you like this ! 

Buck. You can and you must. 

(Pushes him, and iv rings his hand.) 

Wesley. Then may God be with you and bring you back 
safely. 

(Exit into cave.) 

(Buck stands a few seconds in silence, then walking down 
to rock c, he pulls tobacco and paper from his pocket 
and rolls a cigarette. Then, rising suddenly, he puffs 
away deliberately in deep thought, then makes a gesture 
indicative of impatience. ) 

Buck. It ain't such a lot of fun to be a hero ! 



CURTAIN 

{Second curtain : — Buck, still smoking, moves up to cave, 
parts vines and exit.) 

5 1 



ACT IV 

SCENE. — Major's headquarters, a rough cabin interior. 
Rude fireplace L., before which are a couple of stools or 
chairs, r. are two windows, with rough bench be- 
neath. Cupboard up r. c. liable and chairs down 
r. c. Doors l. first and l. c. at back. On table are 
cigars, a pitcher, and several glasses. 

(At rise of curtain Major and Captain are discovered 
seated at table. Ethel is in chair before the fireplace, 
reading. The time is late afternoon.) 

Captain. You say, Major, the horse was left at Van Horn 
by a white renegade of the Comanches ? 

Major. Yes; the fellow rode in there the morning after we 
missed our stock. He got drunk, picked a row and 
some cowboy put a hole through him. 

Captain. Did they bury him down there? 

Major. Yes, and then it was discovered that the horse 
had a brand on his hip. So they turned him over to 
me as I came through. It was one of those big bays 
that belong in Troop K. 

Captain. Well, it's a queer business. 

Major. Yes, it is. 

Captain. I can't quite understand it. 

Major. Well, it only goes to show that in all probability 
the stock was not run off by Apaches after all. 

Ethel {rising and laying book in chair'). Then it cer- 
tainly wasn't Buck Sapello who stole the horses? 

Major. Sapello? Nonsense! If that man's a horse thief, 
I'm no judge of human nature. 

Captain. But, Major, he (Interrupted.) 

Major, I won't believe it until more proof has been forth- 
coming. I mean to look into the affair at once. 

Ethel. Well, I know he isn't a horse thief, and so do you, 
papa. Common sense tells us that. A man wouldn't 
ride mile after mile on a cold night to rescue a squad of 
men who in their minds had condemned him, and were 
ready to string him up to the nearest tree. 

52 



THE TEXAN 

Major. I think you're right. There is no proof that will 
weigh against courage like that. 

Ethel. And then they say he took the body of that young 
Indian Tommy Doolan shot and went over the hills to 
the Apache village to make peace with the tribe for the 
misdeeds of others. Show me another man who would 
do it if you can 1 

Major. He's a man in a thousand, and it is utterly absurd 
to connect him with the theft of the horses. 

Captain. But, Major, he scarcely denies it. (Ethel 
turns up her nose and goes back to her seat at fire. ) 
He swore the Apaches did not do it, but 

{Interrupted.) 

Major. Well, in the light of this paper which he took 
from the Indian's body it would appear that he was 
right. That was a bad blunder, Captain Henderson — 
a bad blunder. 

Captain. I acted with discretion, Major. I knew how 
friendly Sapello was with the Apaches. He was absent 
almost all the day and night the theft occurred, and 
refused to give an account of his absence, even when I 
impressed him with the seriousness of the situation. The 
man's reputation, added to his suspicious absence, left 
me but one alternative. I placed Sapello under arrest. 

{Puffs coolly at his cigar.) 

Major {thoughtfully). That does look strange — his not 
wanting to explain his whereabouts. 

Ethel. He has the best of reasons, believe me. 

Captain. A few days since, Miss Ethel, you were not dis- 
posed to champion this squaw man. May I inquire 
why you have changed your opinion concerning him ? 

Ethel. Certainly you may inquire, and you'll be informed 
politely, but firmly, that it's none of your business. 

Major. Tut, tut, now. I hope Sapello is innocent, and 
we're going to probe this matter to the bottom. 

{Enter Lieutenant, door l. c.) 

Lieutenant {saluting). I beg pardon, sir. 

Major. Well, Lieutenant? 

Lieutenant. There's an old negro woman outside, sir, 

53 



THE TEXAN 

who says she's cold, and wants to come in by the fire. 

That young boy who works for Mr. Inman is with her. 

Major. Well, let them come in. I'll see what they want. 

(Lieutenant salutes and withdraws.') 

Ethel. There must be something wrong, papa. What 
can bring Aunty Lou and Carl down here on a stormy 
day like this ? 

Major. I haven't the slightest idea, I'm sure. 

Captain. Nor I. 

Ethel. I didn't ask your opinion, Captain Henderson. 

Captain. I — I beg your pardon ! 

{He scowls at her. She turns away.) 

Enter Lieutenant, who stands at salute by door, to let 
Aunty and Carl pass in. Both are timid, and ad* 
vance hesitatingly into the room.) 

Major. You may go, Lieutenant. (Lieutenant hows 
and exits.) To what am I indebted for the honor of 
this visit? 

Carl {looking first at Major, then at Aunty). Er — 
why, Aunty'll tell you all about it, sir. 

Aunty. I won't do nuffin'- ob de kind. Tell him yo'self. 

Carl {edging up to her and jabbing her rather viciously 
with his elbow). You tell him ! 

Aunty. No, sah — yo' tell him yo'self ! 

Major. Come, come-— stop this foolishness. You came 
here with some specific purpose in view. Now, what 
is it? 

Aunty. No, sah, we didn't have no speciflcal pu'pose, 
sah. 

Carl. You see, sir, it was this way : the folks up at the 
ranch are getting ready to come down here — that is, 
Mr. and Mrs. Inman and Miss Elsie, sir, — and, and they 
decided to — to leave Aunty and me at home. Of 
course, we'd like to be obliging and watch the ranch 
and all that, sir, but there's too many Injuns about. 
We didn't know but they might swoop down and scalp 
us before we could even cry for help. 

Aunty. Yas'r. {Nods vigorously.) Dat's why we come 
down, sah. 

{She and Carl look at each other and grin.) 
54 



THE TEXAN 

Major. You were both afraid, eh? 

Carl. Well, no, sir, not exactly, sir, but {Pause.) 

Major. And you're the boy who wanted to join my Indian 

fighters ? 
Carl {hanging head). Y-y-yes, sir. 
Major. Don't you know we don't allow cowards in the 

ranks ? 
Carl. But — but, I wouldn't be afraid with the other men 

around, sir. 
Major. Oh, I see. Well, you're a very valiant young 

man. I think I'll send you and Aunty back to the 

ranch. 
Carl. P-p-p-please don't d-d-do that, sir. Mr. Inman, 

he'd be mad, sir, and that would be worse than the 

Injuns, sir. 
Aunty. No, sah, no, sah — don' yo' send us back, sah. 

We wants tuh stay right heah. 
Major. No — I think I'll send you back. 
Ethel. Oh, do let them stay, papa. They didn't mean 

anything wrong. 
Major. Do you hear that young lady pleading for you ? 

{They nod.) Now, I'll tell you what I'll do— I'll let 

you stay here till Mr. Inman arrives. Is that satis- 
factory ? 
Carl. Whoop, Major ! You're a brick ! 
Major {ster nly). What's that? 
Carl. Er — I beg pardon, sir. I — I mean it's good of you 

to do that, sir. I know Mr. Inman won't send us back 

to the ranch, even if he is mad. Do you hear, Aunty? 

The Major's going to let us stay. Whoop ! 

{He yells in her ear, and, with a piercing shriek, she col- 
lapses in a heap on the floor.) 

Major. Here, here ! I can't have anything like this 

going on. 
Carl {bending over and laughing heartily). Ho, ho, ho ! 

You're an old coward, Aunty — that's what you are ! 

( While in this position, Major walks over a?id grabs 

him by the ear. His laugh changes to a howl.) Ouch ! 

Ouch ! Leggo ! Leggo ! Leggo, I say ! {Looks up 

and sees who it is.) Oh, excuse me, sir — I didn't know 

it was you. 
Major. So I observe. What do you mean by playing 

55 



THE TEXAN 

Indian in my quarters? I've a notion to have you 

court martialed. 
Carl. Would that be very terrible, sir ? 
Major. Indeed it would. 
Aunty. Lawsee, boy — 'course hit would. Any time yo' 

heahs dat word "martial," jes' look out fer somethin' 

gwine tuh happen suah. 
Carl (to Major). I didn't mean anything, sir. I just 

wanted to have a little fun with Aunty. 
Major. And do you think such conduct becoming in a 

gentleman ? 
Carl (in surprise). Would — would you mind saying that 

again, sir ? 
Major. I say, do you think such conduct becoming in a 

gentleman ? 
Carl {laughing rather foolishly). Weil, sir, I hadn't 

thought of that. I suppose it isn't, sir. 

(Hangs heady embarrassed.') 

Major. And you hope to be a gentleman some day, don't 

you? 
Carl. Yes, sir. 
Major. Well, don't you think this is a poor way to start — 

pestering an old woman who has done you no harm ? 

(At this, Aunty, who is sitting on the floor, rolls her eyes 
and grins.) 

Carl. I suppose, sir, I shouldn't have done it, but it 

seemed too good a chance to let slip. 
Ethel. I'm sure he won't ever do it again, papa. 

( Winks at Carl to say he won't.) 

Carl. No, Miss Ethel, I'll try not to. 
Major. Well, I'm sure if you try you'll succeed. Now, 
help Aunty up ! 

(Carl goes to her and tugs at her arm, but she is obstinate 
and refuses to budge. He looks at Major, then turns 
to her again.) 

Carl. Aunty, get up. (She does not move.) Aunty ! 
(She does not move. He turns to Major.) She won't 
give an inch, sir. 

S6 



THE TEXAN 

Major. Come, Aunty, you heard the young man say he 

intended you no harm. What's the matter with you ? 

Why don't you get up? 
Aunty. I don't know, sah, but I reckon it's because I 

feels satisfied. 
Major. But this will never do. If Mr. In man catches you 

in that position you will surely lose your place. Come, 

get up. 
Carl {tugging at her ami). Come, Aunty, I didn't mean 

anything. 

{She looks at him an instant, then rises slowly, grunting.) 

Aunty. Hit was all yo' fault, boy. 

Carl {aside to her). Just wait till I get you home. 

{He assumes a ferocious expression, then finds Major 
looking at him, and changes it to a smile.) 

Major. You may warm yourselves until Mr. Inman comes. 
{To Captain.) Come, Captain. Let's see if there is 
any news from the Apache camp. I'm afraid Sapello 
has run into trouble. 

Captain. Looks very much like it, Major — in fact, I 

{He joins Major, and they go out door at back, talking.) 

Ethel {stirring the fire). So the Inmans are coming down 

here? 
Carl. Yes, ma'am. 
Ethel. Don't say "yes ma'am" to me. My name is 

Ethel, and that's what my friends call me. 
Carl. All right, Ethel, I'm a friend of yours. 
Ethel. Of course you are. I suppose the Inmans are 

anxious about Mr. Sapello, too ? 
Carl. Yes, ma'am — er — I mean, Ethel. That is, Miss 

Elsie is. I reckon that's why they're coming down 

here — they think if there's any news the Major' 11 have 

it first. 
Ethel. And you and Aunty were afraid to stay alone? 

I'm surprised at you ! {Laughs.) 
Carl {displeased at her tone). Well, of course we weren't 

exactly afraid, but {Interrupted.) 

Ethel. Oh, yes, you were, you might as well own up. 

What do you suppose Mr. Inman'll say when he finds 

you here ? 

57 



TEE TEXAN 

Carl (with a show of bravado). I don't know, and I 

don't care. He hadn't ought to make us stay up there 

by ourselves, and if he says too much about it, I'll quit 

my job and join the army. 
Ethel. My, but you can brag. What a fine soldier you'd 

make. Papa might station you at the Inman ranch, for 

instance, to keep the Indians away. {Laughs.) 
Carl. It's mean of you to talk that way. I wouldn't be 

afraid if I got to be a soldier. 
Aunty (with a conte?nptuous sniff). A fine so'ger you'd 

make. Huh ! 
Carl. Just wait till I get you home. 
Aunty. I reckon ef yo' was a so'ger de Indians'd scalp yo' 

forty times er day. 
Carl. By which I s'pose you mean I've forty heads and 

can die forty deaths. That'd certainly beat the nine 

lives of a cat. 
Ethel. Carl will grow braver as he grows older, Aunty. I 

suppose we shouldn't blame him for not wanting to 

stay alone and watch the ranch. I shouldn't like such 

a job if I were a boy. 

(Enter Lieutenant, door l. c.) 

Lieutenant (saluting Ethel). There's a young Indian 

outside, Miss Truesdell. 
Ethel. You may let him in, Lieutenant. 

(He salutes and exits.) 

Aunty. Oh, Lordy, am an Injun comin' in heah ? 

Ethel. Why, yes. Don't you like Injuns, Aunty? 

Aunty. No, sah — don't like none ob 'em — dey's all a bad 

lot. Dey suah is ! 

(Enter Swiftwing, door l. c.) 

Ethel. Well, you just sit still. I won't let him hurt you. 

Hello, Swiftwing. I thought it was you. 
Swiftwing (cap in hand). I call to see has Major yet 

heard news of great scout. 
Ethel. Meaning Mr. Sapello, I suppose? 
Swiftwing. Uh-huh. 
Ethel. No. We've heard nothing, but we're looking for 

news every minute What do you think has happened 

to him ? 

58 



THE TEXAN 

Swiftwing. No can tell. Sapello able to take care of his- 
self pretty well, maybe. But my people mad at white 
men because white men think they take hosses, and be- 
cause they shoot big chief's son. Me no can tell what 
they do. Kill Sapello, maybe. 

Ethel. But he has lived among your people. I thought 
they loved him. 

Swiftwing. They love him, all right, but if get real mad, 
no stop to think of that. 

Ethel. Well, I surely hope he pulls through all right. 

Aunty {fervently). Amen to dat ! 

Carl. Well, if you want my opinion, I think he's had a 
scrap and cleaned out the whole caboodle — gosh darn 
'em. I beg your pardon, Ethel, but that's the sort of 
a hairpin he is. 

Swiftwing. Huh ! White boy not know much about it. 

Carl. Do I understand you to mean that I'm a pre- 
varicator ? 

Swiftwing. Huh ! No got dictionary to find what big 
word means. Talk plain. 

Carl. You hadn't better say I don't know what I'm talk- 
ing about, for I'm simply death to Injuns when I get 
started. I've killed forty-six about your size this week. 
I had six of 'em for breakfast this morning. That's 
me ! Understand ? 

Swiftwing. Huh ! White boy talk too much with um 
mouth. 

Carl. Well, how would you have me talk — with my ear? 

Swiftwing {scornfully). Huh ! 

Carl. Oh, you make me tired, but then that's all you can 
expect from an Injun. 

Swiftwing. Some fine day maybe I cut your heart out. 

Carl. Well, it's lucky you were here, Ethel. I'd have 
chewed him up into little tiny bits. There wouldn't have 
been a grease spot left. 

Ethel {laughing). How thankful I am that I was here to 
prevent such a dreadful catastrophe. How poor Swift- 
wing would have looked after you had masticated him. 

Aunty. Will you please say dat word agin, Miss Ethel? 

Ethel. What word ? Masticate ? 

Aunty. Dat's hit — masterkate. What dat mean ? 

Ethel. Why, when you chew anything, you masticate it. 

Aunty {shaking her head). Well, I's heered ob Master 

59 



TEE TEXAN 

Dan an' Master Buck, but I nebber heered ob Master 
Kate. 

{Enter Major and Captain, door l. c.) 

Ethel. Well, papa, what news ? 

Major. None. I fear Sapello has run into a hornet's nest. 

Captain. Oh, he'll turn up yet, Miss Ethel. Such fellows 
have as many lives as a cat. 

Ethel. Well, such fellows are human, like every one else. 

Captain. You seem to forget that you were denouncing 
Sapello a few days since as not fit for decent people to 
associate with. 

Ethel. Some people can never learn how to change their 
mind — -to admit they were wrong. But I'm one that 
can. I used to think because Mr. Sapello had been a 
squaw man that he wasn't good enough for the rest of 
us. But I've found out differently. Mr. Sapello is a 
man every inch of him, which is more than can be said 
of some who call themselves gentlemen. 

{Looks pointedly at him and turns away.') 

Captain. Do you mean to insinuate that I ? 

(Interrupted.) 

Ethel. If the shoe fits you, Captain Henderson — wear it ! 
Carl. Oh, mamma, but wasn't that a stem-twister? 
Captain {turning on hint). What's that? 
Carl {quickly drazving away from him). I — I said I 

wished we could hear from Mr. Sapello. 
Captain {glaring at him). I thought you said something 

else, and I was going to warn you to be careful. 

Pretty bad accidents happen to little boys sometimes. 
Carl. Yes, and men, too ; only men who are born to be 

hung can't be killed by accident. 
Aunty {chuckling). Lordy, jes' heah dat boy spout ! 

(Captain glares at Carl, then turns angrily away, sitting 
left of table and lighting a cigar.) 

Major {who has been examining some papers). Carl, I'm 
afraid I'll have to twist your ear again. Have you 
been pestering Aunty again ? 

Carl, Not Aunty this time, sir. 

60 



THE TEXAN 

Major. Well, be on your good behavior from this moment. 
Carl. Yes, Major. 

{Enter Lieutenant, door l. c.) 

Lieutenant (saluting). Mr. and Mrs. Inman, and Miss 

Inman, sir. 
Major. Show them right in. 

(He goes up toward door, just as enter Dan, Millie and 
Elsie. Elsie goes quickly, anxiously, to Major, hands 
extended.) 

Elsie, What news? 

Major. None, as yet, I regret to say. But we hope to 
hear something any minute. But where is Mr. Doyle? 

Elsie. Out on the ridge yonder, looking for BuckSapello. 
His vigilance has been ceaseless throughout the day. 
{Turning she sees Carl and Aunty.) Well, Dan In- 
man, will you see who is here ? 

(Dan and Millie turn toward fire. Carl and Aunty 
hang their heads with a sheepish look.) 

Dan. The disappearance of my hired help is a secret no 
longer. {Sternly.) How did you two get over here? 

Carl (nudging Aunty). You tell him. 

Aunty. Tell him yo'self. 

Carl. Naw — you tell him. 

Aunty. Tell him yo'self. 

Carl. Well, you see, sir, the Injuns have been giving us so 
much trouble (Interrupted.) 

Dan. What's that got to do with your being here ? 

Carl. I'm getting to that, sir. You see, with so many 
Injuns running loose, Aunty and I didn't think it was 
safe to stay on the ranch alone. We might have been 
scalped and then you would have been hung for leaving 
us to our fate. I didn't want to see you hung. 
Neither did Aunty. So we came down here. 

Dan. Well, you're a good pair to draw to. So kind and 
considerate of you to save me from hanging. I've a 
good notion to send you both back this minute. 

Carl. Oh, please don't do that, sir. 

Aunty. No, sah — don' do numn' like dat. 

Dan. Can you advance a plausible reason why I should 
not? 

61 



THE TEXAN 

Carl. No, sir, except that we don't care to go, sir. We'd 
rather quit our jobs than stay there all alone, wouldn't 
we, Aunty ? 

Aunty. Yas'r, we suah would. 

Dan. Well, you can stay this time, but don't let it happen 
again. 

Elsie. I am worried about Sapello. I feel that he has 
given his life for those who have treated him so poorly. 

Millie. Well, you needn't take on about it. There's 
nothing certain yet. 

Dan. I'm sure he'll be in before night. Sapello is plucky, 
and he wasn't born to be killed by Indians. 

Major. Yet I fear he has put his foot in a hornet's nest 
this time. Of course, I don't want to seem discourag- 
ing, but I prefer to be frank and tell you that I think 
his chances for returning at all are mighty slim. 

Captain. Exactly my opinion. 

Elsie (turning quickly). When we want your opinion, 
Captain Henderson, we will ask for it. 

Captain. Oh, come now, Miss Inman, I 

(Interrupted.') 

Elsie. If it hadn't been for you, Sapello would have been 
alive and well, and those poor fellows would never have 
had to go through that trying experience on Blue Moon 
Mountain. For if you had attended to business, 
Tommy Doolan would never have shot the young buck, 
Snowcap. . 

Captain. Really, Miss Inman, I (Interrupted.) 

Elsie. It is true, every word, and 3'ou know it. 

Major. I feel that there is a great deal in what you say, 
Miss Elsie, and I have been only awaiting Sapello's re- 
turn that I may place the blame in a fair and impartial 
manner. 

Dan. That will be the better way, Major. 

Major. But if Sapello does not turn up, Captain Hender- 
son will know that he has been at least partly respon- 
sible for the circumstances which caused his death. 

Captain (rising quickly). Well, if Sapello had explained 
his absence during the night the horses were stolen 
much trouble would have been averted. He had a fair 
chance. That he did not accept it is no fault of mine. 

Major. But a man cannot be condemned on such flimsy 

62 



THE TEX AX 

evidence. There may be good and sufficient reasons 
why he wished to conceal his whereabouts on that night. 

Captain. Not at the cost of being falsely accused, you 
may be sure. 

Elsie. Major Truesdell; did I understand you to say the 
night the horses were stolen ? 

Major. Why yes. It was in the night — about two o'clock, 
I believe. I thought you knew that. 

Elsie (greatly agitated). But I knew nothing of the kind. 
I had supposed it was in the morning — just before the 
break of day, in fact. 

Major. No ; it was not many hours after midnight. 

Elsie. Oh, why — why didn't I find out for myself, and not 
accept the word of others ? 

Major. What matters the exact hour, Miss Elsie? 

Elsie. It matters a great deal, Major, for I could have told 
where Sapello was at that hour of the night. 

Dan. You could have told ? 

Elsie. Yes, I. Is there anything so strange about that ? 

Dan. Where was he, Elsie ? 

Elsie. He was with me ! 

Millie. Oh, I see it all — I see it all. 

Dan. But I see nothing. 

Major. Nor I. 

Millie. Why, it was Sapello who went up into the hills to 
rescue Elsie, after she had gone to take food to 
McDougall, the imprisoned trapper. {To Elsie.) But 
you told me it was Taranti who brought you home — 
Taranti, an Apache. 

Elsie. Well, Buck Sapello is an Apache by adoption, and 
the Indians call him Taranti. On the night the horses 
were stolen he was with me from an hour after sundown 
until four o'clock in the morning ! 

Dan. Do you realize what you are saying ? 

Elsie {with a bitter laugh). Of course I realize it, and if 
it is to serve as food for lying and malicious gossipers, 
let them begin. I am not going to stand idly by and 
have Buck Sapello accused of a crime of which he 
knows nothing. I reckon you don't know me. 

Dan. No, Elsie — I reckon we don't. 

Major. Then, since you can tell us this much in his favor, 
perhaps you can tell us why he, himself, refused to an- 
swer so simple a question. 

63 



THE TEXAN 

Elsie. I can tell you that and more. He knows what 
you all think of him. He has been made to feel like 
an outcast among you ; he knows in your eyes his 
friendship might bring discredit to a woman. 

Millie. Elsie ! 

Elsie. Oh, don't I know, Millie ? You think so now, in 
spite of what he has done for me — for us all. He is a 
generous man, and wanted to spare me. And I was 
mean enough to doubt him. Why, when I brought 
him his horse to the guard-house that night, I believed 
the lies about him, and he knew I believed them and 
never said one word. Not one word. 

Major {surprised). When you brought him his horse ? 
Is that what you said, Miss Elsie ? 

Elsie. That is what I said, Major Truesdell. 

Major. You brought Sapello his horse ? 

Elsie (defiantly). Yes, and not by accident, either. It 
was premeditated. When Carl came up to the ranch 
and told how he had found Sapello a prisoner, I made 
up my mind to effect his escape ; so I took him arms 
and ammunition, cut the rope your guard had fastened 
him with and helped him get away. [Draws herself 
up proudly.) What are you going to do about it? 

Major {ignoring her question). You did all this for him ? 
Yet I understand that he threw you roughly to the floor 
of the guard-house. 

Elsie. He did not. He only — he kissed me. 

Major. You — you let him do that ! 

Elsie. I did — and I'm afraid I would again. 

(Ethel utters a cry of delight, and rushing over, seizes 
Elsie in her arms and kisses her. ) 

Ethel. You're a darling, and the pluckiest girl I know. 

Major (drawing Ethel away from Elsie). I'll trouble 
you to step aside a moment, Ethel, until I have 
finished with Miss Inman. (To Elsie.) Yours is a 
very grave offense. I feel it my duty to frankly say so. 

Elsie. I am ready to take the consequences. 

Major. The penalty for contriving the escape of prisoners 
is one I hesitate to mention. But since the man in this 
case was innocent of wrong-doing, and I have taken your 
evidence as proof, that might be some extenuation of 
the act. 

64 



THE TEXAN 

Elsie. You forget, Major, that when I helped him I did 
not know he was innocent. 

Major. That makes it more serious, certainly, and since 
you seem to allow nothing in extenuation of your own 
actions, I can only say that I value very highly the 
lives of the men Sapello saved from the death trap, and 
when I see him — if I ever do — I will thank him in the 
warmest manner at my command. 

Elsie. Thank you, Major — thank you. 

(He holds out his ha?id to Elsie. She takes it and seems 
on the verge of breaking down, but recovers her com- 
posure after a moment. Dan rushes over, and lifting 
her fairly off her feet, kisses her.) 

Dan. By George, I'm proud of you, Elsie. You are 
plucky enough to be — well, to be Buck Sapello himself. 

Captain (with a sneer). If he wasn't a squaw man we 
might find some excuse for him. 

Major. A squaw man ? Well, what if he is ? What dif- 
ference does it make so long as the agreement and af- 
fection were mutual? I've been along the border 
nearly all my life and some of the best and bravest 
white men I ever saw have had Indian wives. Miss 
Inman here has shown more good common sense than 
all the rest of us put together — she gave Sapello the 
valuation of a man. 

Captain. Every man to his own opinion, of course. 

Major. And it seems to me that had a man — no matter 
who — come to my rescue while I was in that death 
trap in the hills, I should never be able to do enough 
for him. And do you realize what he did when he took 
the trail to the Apache camp with the body of that In- 
dian boy ? He took his life in his hands, and for the 
sake of a lot of people who felt nothing but contempt 
for him, and were at that very moment accusing him of 
stealing horses. 

(Enter Lieutenant, door l. c.) 

Lieutenant (saluting). Mr. Doyle is outside, sir. 
Major. You know better than to announce him every time 
he comes. Let him in ! 

(Lieutenant salutes and exits, meeting Wesley in the 
doorway. They glare at each other.) 

65 



THE TEXAN 

Wesley. Don't be backward about mentioning it any time 
you feel like settling that little difficulty, Lieutenant. 

(Lieutenant exits with an angry gesture. Wesley enters 
the room.) 

Major. Any signs of Sapello ? 

Wesley. None. There's a heavy snow-storm in the valley, 
and one can't see a great distance. 

Elsie. You don't think anything has happened to Mr. 
Sapello, do you, Mr. Doyle ? 

Wesley. I don't want to alarm you needlessly, but I fear 
the worst. 

Captain. If a man will be a fool, he should take the con- 
sequences. 

Wesley (over to him). To whom did you address that re- 
mark ? 

Captain (jgrozvling). To myself, I suppose. 

(Turns away.) 

Wesley (hands clenched). If it wasn't for those stripes 
on your shoulders, I'd give you something to remember 
me by. 

Dan. Those stripes are to be respected, Mr. Doyle, which 
is more than can be said for the man who wears them. 

Major (in a tone of protest). Gentlemen — gentlemen ! 

Captain. Oh, you're all against me ! You think more of 
this contemptible cur, Sapello, than you do of a re- 
spectable army officer. Well, I have a little score to 
settle with this Sapello. Your eyes will be opened to 
many' of his so-called virtues before I am through with 
him. 

(Crossing to door, he turns to exit. As he opens door, 
Buck enters, slamming it behind him. He stands close 
to Captain looking him in the eye. ) 

Omnes. Sapello ! 

Buck (slowly to Captain). I heard what you said. Will 
you be kind enough to let me know when you get 
through with me ? 

Captain. I want nothing to do with you. 

Buck. But I want something to do with you. You're going 

to fight me within twenty-four hours — swords, pistols or 

fists — I don't care which. If you refuse I'll brand you 

a coward before the whole blamed army. Now you can 

66 



THE TEXAN 

go. {He steps aside, Captain looks at him a moment, 
then goes out. Buck closes the door and walking up to 
Major, salutes.') Major Truesdell, I have come 
back for my trial ! 

Major {grasping his hand). Oh, that's all over now. 
But tell me, what news do you bring of the Apaches ? 

Buck. I secured a stand-off in hostilities. {Hands paper 
to Major.) You can take the matter up with them now 
in perfect safety and if carefully handled good relations 
may be restored. 

Major. I can't find words to thank you for what you've 
done, Sapello. 

Wesley {stepping forward). I beg your pardon, Major — 
not Sapello, but Doyle. 

Omnes. Doyle ! 

Wesley. Yes, and my brother ! 

Buck. I owe you a little explanation, friends, if I may call 
you such. I {Interrupted.) 

Major. Explanations be hanged, sir. We accept you for 
what we know you are — a brave man ! 

Buck. I thank you, Major. {To Elsie.) Did you give 
my brother the letter as I requested, Miss Inman ? 

Elsie. Yes, Buck. {She extends her hand ; he takes it.) 

Wesley. She gave it to me, and I can't find words to tell 
you how happy it has made me. I start east to-morrow, 
glad to know I am to have a chance to right the wrong 
I did Jennie. 

Buck {taking his hand). It's all right, Wesley. I know 
you'll be good to her. But we have wandered from the 
subject in hand, apparently forgetting that I stand here 
an accused horse thief. 

Dan. Oh, hang it all, no one is thinking of that now. 

Buck. I beg your pardon. I am thinking of it. There 
are some who will doubt my innocence. I — I can't 
explain my absence from camp that night, but I want 
you all to believe I had the best of reasons for going, 
and that I had nothing to do with the theft of the 
horses. 

Major. We do believe it, sir — in fact, we know it. 

Buck {perplexed). I — I don't believe I quite grasp your 
meaning. {Looks blankly from one to the other.) 

Major. Miss Inman has told us that you were in her com- 
pany, and we hold for you only feelings of profound 

6 7 



THE TEXAN 

respect, and regret that the facts in the case were not 

known to us earlier. 
Buck (turning to Elsie, who hangs her head). Tell me, 

why did you do this ? Surely {Pause.) 

Elsie. Oh, Buck, can't you guess? 
Buck. Elsie ! Do you love me ? 
Elsie {going to him). Buck ! 

(He clasps her in his arms. Major and Ethel, Millie 
and Dan, clasp hands y while Carl and Aunty look at 
each other and grin.) 



CURTAIN 



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